Dreamweaver
by DeaD-VoRTeX
Summary: Weak, small and with an unnatural fear of the sight of blood, Jana Rizuku is Deadman Wonderland's newest toy to play with. An account of his short yet scarring time at Japan's only privately- owned prison.  Rated M for: violence, gore and very mild swearing.
1. Stage 00: The End

Stage 00: The End

Life… Why does it always have to end so soon? When the promising bloom of a new light shines through, it's always washed away in a dark red tide.

Is that why I'm here right now? Perhaps it was my own fault, but I can't see that light anymore. Everything's dark, but I can tell than there's whiteness around me- it's burning through my clothes, piercing me. There are other people as well, maybe ten thousand, maybe one, but they all share one voice- it's the voice of amusement, of cheering. They're cheering for me.

Because I'm about to die.


	2. Stage 01: Not Exactly A Wonderland

Stage 01: Not Exactly A Wonderland  
>"You're slacking- come on, move it!"<br>The woman who was watching us all move in our procession barked like a dog, sending the person in front of me tripping over their own feet. I paused, considering whether I should help or not, but mere seconds later I knew it would be suicidal to stop- here, you only looked out for yourself. That was what they'd told me on the journey. It seemed like that kind of place, anyway, as if there was nobody left in the world who would take you in. After all, we were just criminals- who would want us?  
>My eyes flicked from one face to another- what crimes had they committed? Someone with a ripe scar etched across his cheek scowled threateningly at me when our views locked, and quickly I looked away. There was no doubt that I was the youngest one here. It was evident that everyone had been out of school for several years, whereas I was only in my sixth year of Mizuhana High. If I weren't here, I would be in geography now… I'd never liked the subject- in fact I detested it- but I would've given my soul to substitute here for there. It was so cold, like even the warmth of the sun had fled. The plain grey suits we had been placed in gave us little protection, so as far as I could see, everyone was shivering. That didn't stop the woman overlooking us from opening her mouth and ordering us to move faster every few seconds.<br>This was Deadman Wonderland, the notorious prison that resembled a fairground from the outside, where the inmates were forced to take part in games to please the public. Being Japan's only privately- owned institute of detention, it relied on funding from the crowds of visitors that flooded the stadium stands every day to see prisoners sacrifice their dignity to entertain the screaming audiences, who would hack and cackle at the acts like scavengers round a decaying carcass. That much I knew about the terror that I was about to be thrust head- firsr into.  
>"Hey lady, you've got a nice cleavage."<br>The sudden silence that fell was almoat tangible-you could feel it filling up the room, halting everyone's movements as they stopped and stared at the one who had spoke, a man standing directly in front of me. The way he'd said it had just been so... Blunt. There was no other way to describe the words he'd spoken.  
>Twenty pairs of eyes turned towards the woman apprehensively, awaiting her next move. For about half a minute, there was none, but then she stirred and leaned onto one hip.<br>"Hmm?"  
>The footsteps that ensued were slow and purposeful, and I could tell that she was enjoying the sound of the heels colliding with the floor. It struck me with fear- I felt a deep terror for the one who had spoken, as if it was me who had said it. My lungs filled with air as I held my breath, awaiting what was to come.<br>"So, is that what you think?" The woman's face was merely an inch away from the man's, but it wasn't as though he could've done anything to hurt her- he was chained tight, and she was armed with a pistol that I had no doubt she'd use when the situation called for it.  
>No sound came from the man- he just stared hard into her eyes, defying her bitter stare with one of his own.<br>All of a sudden the woman drew something that resembled a sharp metal stick from where it had been hanging on her belt and pushed it into the man's stomach. I saw it burst through the other side, sending a few spots of blood to meet the ground. The man's face was that of shock- perhaps he knew something like this was coming, but didn't expect the pain. The metal bar remained sheathed within him for a few moments before it was pulled back sharply, allowing the man freedom of movement once again. It was almost unreal and somewhat dream- like, the way the blood sprayed from his stomach, staining the clothes of the woman in front of him. Yet still he made no sound, only swayed drunkenly and fell onto his front in a pool of glossy red that was expanding gradually from his body.  
>I, too, found myself colliding with the cold floor, dizzy as though I'd just been spun round several times. Perhaps I had- the world was rotating, gyrating, pulsating as I lay, feeling a twisting pain developing within my chest. It only took a few seconds before the warm liquid met my gasping lips, and then everything faded.<p> 


	3. Stage 02: Enter The Rook

Stage 02: Enter The Rook

Slowly my eyes opened.  
>It appeared that I was in a hospital ward, or the equivalent that a prison like this could provide. The walls of the small room were the standard white, but the doors were metal and barred, making escape an impossible option. It wasn't as if I had any desires to escape at that moment anyway- my head wouldn't stop continuously spinning, and I could feel myself shaking slightly.<br>I looked to my left, and almost jumped when I saw that someone was stirring on the bed next to me. The unknown figure with an untidy mess of black hair hugging his face to his chin sat up and looked in my direction. Shocked, I realized I knew his face from before.  
>"You... You're the one in the hall! The one who..." I paused when I saw his look.<br>"Yeah, that was me," he mumbled bitterly, but suddenly his face took on a whole new light, and he grinned. "Come on, you were thinking it too."  
>I tried to remember the woman- I'd been concentrating on her bark and trying to obey her orders more than anything else, but now that I visualized her I found myself subconsciously agreeing with the man.<br>It was apparent that he was about five years older than me, one of the younger ones out of the handful of criminals I'd faced before. His features were sharp and his skin pale, almost too pale for someone of Japanese origin- however, he didn't look foreign. The contrast of this and his hair, black as the feathers of a rook or similar bird, made him look slightly ill- perhaps he suffered from anaemia or something similar.  
>He stood and made his way across the small space between our beds to me, and as he did I fully noticed the cloth that was wrapped round his stomach. He didn't wear a top, so his torso, the bottom half of which was wrapped in grubby white bandages, was exposed. He wasn't overly- muscled, like me, but looked as though he regularly took part in sport, one that required the player to be fast and agile, but at the same time able to stand their ground. As for me, my ability to do any kind of sport was about equal to the chance someone may have of rolling a nine on a six- sided dice- absolute zero.<br>"Nishi Inarami."  
>I stared at the hand that was outstretched towards me, and slowly shook it. I was quite impressed at the fact that he acted as if his wound was nothing, as if he didn't have a gaping hole pierced through his vital organs. If it were me, I would probably have been lying in agony at that moment. Or maybe the doctors had drugged him up so much that he couldn't even feel the pain- this seemed like the kind of place where that would be a normal procedure.<br>"Hey blondie, did you faint because of the blood or something? I saw you hit the ground beside me before I went out," Nishi said.  
>I felt my head impulsively lower in shame- it was ridiculous to be afraid of blood, especially at my age. Though it wasn't as much a fear as an impulse- the sight of it just made me unstable, so much so that whenever I encountered considerable amounts if it I blacked out without warning. Even a papercut occasionally proved a hazard- the sight of red was just something that I couldn't stand no matter how much I tried to resist it.<br>"Yes," I said slowly, embarassed. "Passing out when I see blood isn't rare for me- it's pathetic, I know."  
>Nishi laughed. "You sure as hell wouldn't want me to take off these grotty things, then." He motioned towards his bandages. "That cow sure did a number on me- I couldn't actually believe she'd stabbed me all the way through until I felt the skin on my back pop open..."<br>"Please, don't…" I begged. The memories of the incident were coming back to me, and I was doing my best to push them to the back of my mind.  
>"Oh, sorry," he said. "I forgot you're a weirdo." He punched my shoulder playfully.<br>There was a silence, in which I shifted uncomfortably and Nishi continued to stand in front of me. All of a sudden, the quiet was broken when he exclaimed and clapped his hands together once. "Oh, I knew I'd forgotten something! Sorry, blondie- I forgot to ask your name."  
>"My name?" At once the dilemma of whether or not to tell him came into my head. Sure, he seemed friendly, but was it just an act to gain my trust? I knew from experience that sometimes giving away too much information about yourself was about the worst thing you could do.<br>However, it was a pointless consideration, as the heavy sound of metal bolts being slid over each other marked the opening of the door on the right side of the room.  
>"Jana Rizuku," a hard male voice said, and my whole body went stiff. "Follow us."<p> 


	4. Stage 03: The Rules

Stage 03: The Rules

"Oi, scum," the man spat as the woman timidly placed her hand on his arm, probably to calm him down. I lifted my head from where I'd been staring at the floor and looked at him inquiringly, awaiting his question or statement. I was doing my absolute best not to convey my fear in my face or actions. Being called 'scum' was negligible- it was the fear of not knowing that scared me so such. The games I'd heard of, the Gladiator races and fights that took place here... Would I be forced it take part in them? Perhaps I'd meet other people, inmates in the same helpless position as me, who'd offer me some support at least. It wasn't as though I deserved the company though, not after what I'd done to get myself here. I had no desire to revisit that memory. Ever.  
>Or... Maybe they'd torture me. Was that legal nowadays? The corrupt society of 2023 Japan would probably turn a blind eye to a privately- owned institute torturing its prisoners, the filth of its country. Feeling slightly faint, I wrapped my arms round my hips and squeezed slightly, holding myself together as if I was already being ripped apart.<br>"What are you doing?" The man was eyeing me as if I was a different species to him.  
>I didn't reply, but felt myself shaking without my realizing it before- I must've looked like a pathetic wreck to the two workers.<br>"You're the one that passed out in the hall, aren't you?"  
>I nodded.<br>The man muttered something bitterly, then continued. "Stupid dirt- wipes haven't told you the rules then. Fine."  
>It seemed as though he was just looking for a chance to assert his aggressiveness at anything and everything. His tone conveyed his irritation, and his eyes were filled with a type of irrational anger that had no obvious cause, but just existed.<br>Meanwhile the woman, a short bespectacled girl with brown hair pulled back into a bun and a white lab coat, looked nervous. Obviously the man's spitefulness had left her uneasy, but now that all that rage was chanelled towards me, I was frozen solid. He was twice the size of me, and what's more, he had a gun.  
>"You're in prison," he said. "I don't know how you got here, nor do I give a damn about your little adventures into the hands of a law, but let me make one thing clear to you: there's no escape for you. You're in death row, so whether you live or die is for all of us to decide." He seemed to have some satisfaction in saying that.<br>The man turned to the side and eyed me at an obscure angle, like he was a storyteller trying to build up suspense during a reading- his mood had dramatically changed from aggressive to taunting.

"That thing around your neck…"

Immediately my hands flew to my neck, and I realized with absolute horror that there was something there, a hard, plastic ring that encircled me. I hadn't noticed it before, perhaps because it fitted so snugly in the area at the base of my throat, but now that it was there I panicked. How many other moderations had they placed on my body?

"Through that device you are being constantly fed a set amount of poison," he explained.

My eyes widened- _poison?_ Was he using my shredded nerves as an opportunity to tease me further? I was already on the brink of falling to the ground and curling up in a ball to try and escape from the intense feat that was clawing away at my insides. Perhaps the only reason I hadn't done so already was because the terror of my situation had frozen my body stiff as a board.

Sensing my increased anxiety, the man smiled maliciously. "Don't worry- you won't die for a while. The poison takes three days to build up before you die. And since you're on death row, nobody cares whether you survive or not, so long as you provide some entertainment while you're at it."

Once again the man chuckled, but it was a dark sound, not a laugh of genuine happiness. It was as if he was anticipating an event, that he knew something I didn't. I had no doubt that he possessed this knowledge, but I felt too unwell to ask him- I didn't want to know anything more about this Deadman Wonderland, only wanted to get out of here as fast as I could before I obtained any more twisted information regarding my situation.

As I was marched along the bland corridor, I hated the ring that was clamped around my neck like a dog lead, and one question lay waste to my nerves more than any other.

_What kind of sick game is this?_


	5. Stage 04: Casts and Candy

Stage 04: Casts and Candy

The door slid shut behind me and sounded with a metallic _clang_. Anxiously I looked around.  
>The cell was larger than I'd thought it would be, but maybe that was because it housed two beds as opposed to adopted the monotonous colour scheme of grey and white that gave Deadman Wonderland its character, or rather lack of it. As for the room itself, it seemed to only contain what was necessary- a single set of drawers, cabinets for minor storage, not that I had anything to put in them, and a bed on either side of the cell. Perched on one of them, I noticed, was a figure, who looked up at my arrival.<br>"Jana? It is you! We're roommates!"  
>Nishi stood to greet me, smiling like we'd been friends for ages, when in actuality I'd met him once. He'd since had a device identical to mine installed on his neck- just looking at it made me feel nauseous. Its artificial form seemed to initiate a countdown in my head, one that would inevitably end in my death.<br>It appeared that Nishi could sense my unease, so he paused his advance and said, "Huh? Are you alright?"  
>It was difficult to form the words, but somehow I managed to voice my thoughts, even if they were a stuttered mess. "W-We're going t-to die in three days."<br>Nishi's eyes widened, but then softened again, and he began to laugh. "Ah, no we're not. I've got candy."  
>My face must've looked a picture as I tried to comprehend whether he was serious or not.<br>"Huh? Didn't they tell you about the candy?"  
>I felt my head shaking.<br>"They told you about the neck thingies but not abput the candy? What about cast points? Games?"  
>It was all new to me. "No."<br>Nishi rolled his eyes playfully. "No wonder you're so worried! God, if I thought I was going to drop dead in three days..." A clump of thick black hair fell over his eyes, but flew back again with a flick of his head before continuing. "Apparently the candy is an antidote to the poison, and one piece taken every three days is enough to stop it from taking effect. You purchase them using cast points, which you collect on these cards." He produced a flat rectangular object, similar in size and appearance to a bank card, from the pocket of his grey prison uniform and held it up for me to see. "You basically use cast points as a currency for everything- meals, snacks, betting chips among other prisoners... They're like a life source. And if you want more, you have to compete in games."  
>"Games? You mean like the ones people come here to see?"<br>"They just said 'games'- I presume that's what they mean." Nishi shrugged. "I mean, they're just acts with a load of special effects added in to give them a gory edge. The worst thing that could happen is you get a little bashed up, but anything else is illegal."  
>Subconsciously my eyes fell to my roommate's stomach. The wound was covered up by his one- piece suit now, but I knew that it was still lurking there. I had my doubts about these 'special effects'- would a place that injured its inmates in that way bother to use such tactics to entertain its visitors when no- one could tell the difference? I prayed, prayed, prayed that my suspicions were incorrect, but something about this place just seemed to warped and... Wrong.<br>From outside the cell's door came the sudden crashing of metal and steps. The footfalls came faster and faster, as if the person to whome they belonged was desperately searching for something. I turned and walked up to the door, but as I looked around something slammed into the bars, causing the whole structure to shake. Inches away from me was a face, distorted as if in unbelievable agony, and gasping.  
>"Don't let me die," it begged.<p> 


	6. Stage 05: Sin

Stage 05: Sin

Black holes grew wider and retracted within bronze irises in the eyes of the face. The motion reminded me of a television static, flickering between one station and another. Agonized, the man's taut fingers gripped the bars over and over again as he winced and trembled on the verge of tears.

"Please, I need… Candy. You have to…" His words were cut short as he drew in a great breath- however, his lungs seemed to reject the air, and he let it all out in a huge cough that sounded like his whole respiratory system was being torn into pieces. This wasn't the only thing that came out of his mouth, though- I smelt the wet coppery flavour of the blood before it showered my face in miniscule specs that exploded over my face and collar.

I blinked. All of a sudden I was aware of every drop of wetness that was clinging to me, the way it felt warm against my bare skin, but really, it was chilling me to the point of pain. Consequently, I was frozen in a position that meant all I could do was stare at the man as he keeled over, clutching at his throat as if he had the desire to claw it out. Blood, sickening blood, was spraying from his mouth, which kept opening and closing like a goldfish out of water.

Perhaps the sound of several pairs of boots hurrying down the corridor would've distracted me if I wasn't so fixated with the dying man. I wanted to look away, wanted to hide in the corner and force this scene into the deepest pits of my mind, but it was as though I was being controlled by something deep within me that meant moving away, or even averting my eyes, was an impossible task. My body didn't want to respond to my thoughts, and all the while I was growing more and more sick at the sight before me. At one point I even felt something crawling up my leg, but I didn't dare look.

A prison attendant stood over the man whilst the others waited a few steps behind- they did nothing to help him, but instead merely watched with emotionless faces as the man writhed and gave his last shudders. As for me, I finally willed myself to tear my gaze away, even if it was only to look down at my feet.

My heart almost stopped.

There was something clinging to my leg, like a vine but much smoother and a thick red colour. It seemed to shine in the low light, like it was just a whole line of polished metal, but at the same time I got the feeling that it was part of me.

One of the attendants turned a cold eye towards me, but then his whole head followed and he exclaimed. Immediately, the whole band proceeded towards my cell door- it opened easily, and then they were at my back, jabbing sharp points into my skin, which I guessed were objects similar to the one the woman at the entrance had used to stab Nishi. They didn't want to get too close, though. Everyone was shouting frantically, but nobody seemed willing to approach me for some reason.

"He's losing consciousness- just wait."

I didn't notice fully until I heard someone behind me say it- the white, and then the nausea and the black. My hands, wet with perspiration, slid easily down the bars of the cell to the ground, leaving me panting against the floor.

"He's down."

Yay! The first part is finished, so that means random author notes can ensue! :D

Sorry to interrupt the tense mood with my strange ramblings, but I think I should introduce myself- I'm Lei Lamperouge. Wow, this is my first story so far that comes under the 'mature' age rating. I f you're enjoying it, then please leave a review. If not, then also leave a review telling me how crap it is. I don't care- I love hearing what people think about my work, whether it's good, bad, or just general splurging over the keyboard. (Actually, with that last one, it probably wouldn't be best. It'd be a bit weird if I logged on, got excited because someone had left a review and then found it said, ''. ^^')

Anyway, sorry for pouring all my strange hyperness into this end section. I'll try to update more often- in fact, I've written the next chapter already- it should be going on soon. I'm not sure how long the story will go on for, but I'll be doing a notes section again at the end of part two, which starts with stage 06. I hope you'll all continue reading, though! Thank you so much! :3

Lei x


	7. Stage 06: Tamaki Tsunenaga, Puppet Maste

Stage 06: Tamaki Tsunenaga, Puppet Master

"Jana! Jana? Jana!"

The voice was soft and unhurried, but seemed to change tone every tone, sometimes enquiring, sometimes exclaiming, and sometimes merely drifting off into nothingness.

When my eyes opened, my line of vision was blocked by a grinning face. Was it a puppet? A mask? The features were taut and stretched in such an exaggerated way it seemed like the whole composure was an artificial creation, but all of a sudden it moved, and I understood that it was genuine.

"Jana. That's what they call you, isn't it?"

When I failed to reply from uncertainty of whether or not it was safe to, the man stood up and started to slowly walk away from me. His face dropped slightly, but he still wore that fake grin that made him look like a child's toy. Or perhaps something from a horror movie.

I realized that I was sitting down, taped to a chair by Velcro bands that dripped my ankles, wrists and waist. The room was another hospital ward, but there was a great deal more machinery here, and a hell of a lot more security, as well as a desk and chair in the middle of the room. For one thing, we weren't the only ones here- a woman clutching a clipboard between the folds of her white lab coat stood nervously in the corner, and guarding the metal door were two guards with guns, probably loaded and ready to shoot. Were they for me? What did I have to do for them to pull the trigger? Was I that dangerous? Immediately my heart's pace sped up, setting a machine to my left in motion as it began to give out high- pitched _peeps_ in time with my pulse.

The man looked out from under a pair of flashing glasses."So you've noticed the guns? Don't worry- they won't shoot unless you use your Branches of Sin. Do we have a deal?"

The patronizing way in which he spoke, and his voice, with a slight croak that gave me the impression he was on the brink of sanity, teetering between the divide that split normal behaviour and utter lunacy into two categories. Despite his seemingly normal dress, mop of dark grey hair, brushed neatly to either side, and thin glasses, the rest of his appearance was completely out of sync- he frightened me.

I shifted uneasily, and he seemed to notice this, raising his eyebrows inquiringly. "Oh, so you are already aware of your Branches of Sin and the powers you possess?"

He seemed to have completely misunderstood my reaction, but in a way I was relieved- I didn't want to let him know how scared I was, how confused I felt, and of the utter fear that I had been in possession of and haunted by since my first step into Deadman Wonderland.

"Hmm, I wonder... Jana Rizuku, age 17, blood type AB, nationality Japanese, prisoner number 106905... What do you think about my Wonderland? Does it suit your liking?" His glasses flashed.

What did I think? Words couldn't communicate my feelings for this place- a mixture of disgust, hatred, terror, contempt, horror, shock, sadness and an utter loss of hope had filled me as a result of what I'd seen, a stain on my soul. Inside I was shaking, outside I was rock solid, and my nerves had been reduced to mere threads, ground away by the bloodshed I'd faced. I'd been here a few hours, half a day at most, and so far a man had been stabbed through, and another left to die in the corridor, presumably because the clock on his poison ring had run out. Would that happen to me? Was I going to die in agony as well?

"Y-yes," I replied shakily.

"Wonderful!" He fell back onto the revolving chair and spun around, laughing and flailing his arms in apparent ecstasy. I found myself shooting an anxious glance at the two guards, but they maintained their hard glares at the wall behind me, as if this was completely normal.

Gradually, the chair's rotations slowed down, and the man frowned, but then resumed his clown- like smile and pressed the pointed ends of his thin fingers together.

"I'm glad you like it here," he said. "I'm also glad I got to speak with you, Jana Rizuku, number 106905. If that's how you feel, then you're going to love my other surprises. For now though, my two friends will lead you out."

With that, the two attendants came to untie me, but their faces were hard, as if they abhorred the man resting in the chair, and I wondered if there was such thing as 'friends' in Deadman Wonderland.


	8. Stage 07: How It Works

Stage 07: How It Works

The next week was a blur. I was taken back to a different cell in a completely different block- there were fewer people here, I could tell, but the atmosphere was pretty much the same as in the other area I'd been placed in before. Nishi had also been transferred as well, it seemed, so we became roommates once again. There was no choice for me really, but I wasn't going to complain- he was good to have around, and his loud, choppy personality was an antidote to the dismal corner in which I stayed. He took my card, with its cast points that had been pre- installed onto it, every day and bought me food for breakfast and dinner. It wasn't something I'd asked him to do, but after I'd refused to step outside of the cell bars, he'd taken the card and brought me back a pasty in a brown bag. Now he did it every day, trading my points for food, whilst I remained on my bed, my back against the wall and chin resting on my legs. And he'd started calling me 'blondie' too, as a joke, but it didn't really bother me.

We were allowed to walk around the enclosed block for most of the day hours. In fact, it was only at night that we were locked inside our rooms. The guards came round every morning and evening with their keys, rounding up the herds of prisoners and chasing them into their cells- nobody objected, and everyone obeyed. Like Nishi, they'd begun to call me 'blondie' as well, and jeered every time they walked up to the door and slid the key in. As the days of emotionless sitting went by, my hair became more and more greasy, and they seemed to notice this- first of all it was 'blondie', then 'greasy blondie', and finally one of them exclaimed, 'wash your hair, greaseball'. The insults weren't all that imaginative, and obviously intended to be spiteful, but what could I do? Whenever they shouted out something to me from across the room, they narrowed their eyes and sneered, challenging me. They had absolute power over me, something which I'd never had in my life over anyone, so I knew that if I so much as spoke back, I'd be punished. I had no intention to try and defend myself, though- I was fully aware of the fact I was growing dirty, but I didn't want to move. For one, I was too afraid of going outside after everything that had happened, yet there was something much more serious on my mind.

Flashbacks.


	9. Stage 08: Empty

Stage 08: Empty

"Hey, Jana- anything in particular you want today?"

Nishi grabbed his card off the side along with my own, but quickly spun his head around when I unfurled my legs and pushed them along. I was completely stiff, since I'd been sleeping and sitting in this position since yesterday afternoon, when I'd had to leave the bed for a toilet break, and my muscles ached from being pushed against my chest for so long. Like a tightly- wound piece of string that was suddenly being unravelled, I stretched myself out and slowly slid off the bed.

"It's okay, I'll go," I said to Nishi.

"Uh, right…" He handed me my points card and moved out of the way of the door, his facial expression more surprised than anything. I smiled weakly, then stepped outside the cell.

The corridor adopted the standard Deadman Wonderland colour scheme- grey and white. The space was wide, with cell doors breaking the walls at regular intervals, and curved round so that I couldn't see more than ten metres in front of me. For some reason my heart was beating out of control once again- it was probably because I hadn't been outside of my room for a week, and was anticipating what could be outside. Apart from occasional words to Nishi, the last person I'd spoken to had been the director of this prison, whose name I had later found out from my roommate to be Tamaki Tsunenaga. Despite being here for the same amount of time as me, Nishi seemed to know a lot more about the ways and practices of this place. Perhaps it was because he walked round a lot, or perhaps he had been told by others. Perhaps no- one had bothered to tell me anything at all.

A small area, like a clearing in a forest, but not enclosed enough to be considered a room, lay ahead of me. Inmates of both genders talked and moved around, and on the left were three vending machines. They seemed like the kind you found all over Japan, where you selected what you wanted and it was deposited at the bottom, but as I walked over and examined them closer I found that they each had a slot that was adapted to taking cards as opposed to money.

My own card was in my hand, so I slid it into the machine and waited. Almost at once, red generic writing next to the hole appeared and instructed me to make a selection out of the displayed dishes- I obeyed.

"Hey, hurry up!" a voice behind me ordered.

I didn't turn around, but felt myself becoming more and more uncomfortable as I waited for the machine to process the information. At last, something solid hit the base, and I bent down, picked it up and turned. However, I was stopped by something as I tried to move, and realized that I was being held in place by a hand on my shoulder. The skin was weathered with scars and general wear, and as I looked up I saw that the owner reflected this- he was about a head taller than me, burly, and had black hair that stuck up untidily, as if it was supposed to represent the feathers of a ferocious animal or bird. He'd obviously lost sight in his right eye, since it was covered with a dark patch, but the visible one was staring at me intently.

"Forgotten anything?"

I twisted my head round to the machine and inspected it for a second time- for a moment I couldn't see what he was talking about, but then my attention fell upon my card, which was sticking out of the slot. My hand stretched out to remove it, but the man's voice sounded again, making me jump.

"Check the screen."

Confused, I peered at the digital space next to the slot, and felt my body go completely rigid.

_Thank you for using this machine. You have -0- Cast Points left._

_Have a nice day._


	10. Stage 09: A Solution?

Stage 09: A Solution…?

The man grinned crookedly. "Oops."

No points left. I had nothing left. My currency, my very life, was reduced to zero. The thought was preposterous- I was dead. How was I going to buy Candy? My thoughts were so frenzied and clouded with black that I couldn't order or make sense of them, but somehow I managed to iron them out for a moment, just long enough to inject some logic into them. The last time the taste of Candy had filled my mouth had been this morning, when Nishi had brought me one of the black- and- white- wrapped sweets as an antidote to the poison that was seeping into my arteries had been this morning. That meant I had less than three days. Three days before I… Died. Before I died. Before the scales tipped, and the toxins became too much for my body to handle. Then I'd start coughing blood, and it'd flow out of my joints. I'd run rampage uncontrollably, trying to quell the agony boiling under my skin like oil. In my last moments of life I'd suffer pain that made death seem like a heavenly place.

Three days.

"Are you alright?" The man's smile had dropped, and his tone was a little concerned, but not overly.

I nodded vigorously, yet found that I was swaying unsteadily. Other people were staring at me with enquiring eyes, but I ignored them and was instead trying desperately to keep my head as far away from the ground as possible- I'd learnt that if I did that, I could work out which way was up and therefore prevent my descent to the floor. However, my reasoning failed, and the ground began to race towards me at an alarming speed until it was the only thing supporting my head. I didn't lose to unconsciousness, though- I crouched there, panting, completely and utterly hollow.

"Hey, kid- what's wrong? You worried about the Cast Points?"

My reply was a groan that came from deep within my throat.

"Here."

A set of hands grabbed the back of my collar and dragged me back, pulling me so that I was sitting against the nearest wall. I shuddered once and thought I was going to eject the contents of my stomach over my legs, but a hard palm across my cheek brought me back to reality. I found myself face to face with the man- his teeth were bared like a dog's, and he barked, "Pull yourself together! Just because you don't have any Points doesn't mean you're completely done. Now, just think- you need to regain them, right? Have you entered yourself into any of the games?"

"Games?" The word brought back to me all the images of the gladiator- style matches that defined Deadman Wonderland and gave it its infamous identity. However, if they meant Cast Points and life, then I'd gladly take part in one.

"Yeah. I'll enter you in one. There's a Carnival Corpse game tomorrow- I'll put you down for that. Oh, and I'll need your name."

"Oh, Jana Rizuku," I replied wearily as the man stood up and walked over to the opposite wall, where a posted was pinned down with thumbtacks. He produced a pen from his pocket and scribbled down my name on the paper. "What's yours?"

"Mine?" He turned, and for a moment I thought he was going to sink his fist into me, but instead laughed spontaneously and said, "Crow."

An odd name… I spent a moment wondering whether it was the one given to him by his parents or one he'd chosen himself, but it wasn't really important. What was really on my mind was what I'd just been signed up for, and what I'd brought upon myself- I couldn't help but want to know as much as I could about this game.

Reading the look in my eyes, Crow explained, "The Carnival Corpse is a fight, one that takes place in a small arena between two people. There's one winner, and they're the one that receives the big prizes. You lose, you get squat- so don't lose!"

"A fight?" I found myself repeating Crow's words in disbelief.

A… Fight.

No.

I was going to die.


	11. Stage 10: Setting the Stage

Stage 10: Setting the Stage

Deafening lights, blinding sounds... I knew they lay ahead- I could taste the air. Fresh air, something which I hadn't encountered once since being confined here. The atmosphere was almost tangible, a mixture of excitement and something else. Was it bloodlust? Or was that just my anxiety eating its way into my senses? What I did know, however, was that the games in Deadman Wonderland were known notoriously as the most violent and advanced in the way of visual effects in all of Japan. Dog races, one of the events that involved prisoners running obstacle races against each other, were frequently broadcast on live television. I'd watched one, and had to leave the room because of the utter violence that was shown- the special effects had been so realistic they were frightening.  
><em>You're on death row- nobody cares if you survive or not..<em>  
>Special effects? Was that really the way of Deadman Wonderland? Now that I thought about it, we were all destined to die here- wasn't that the point of the necklaces we were forced to wear? If we were going to go, why not with a bang, for the entertainment of millions?<br>Perhaps the truth was more sickening than I'd originally believed.  
>I shifted, and one of the guards on my left rotated his head slightly so that he could eye me from his peripheral vision. The chains holding together my hands and ankles were heavy, and rubbed against each other whenever I moved in the slightest way. Up ahead was the unmistakeable roar of a crowd, hungry for entertainment.<br>All of a sudden a grainy voice made its way out of a device attached to the attendant's leg, and at once he pressed his hand against my back and pushed me forward.  
>"You're up," he muttered, and then more loudly, "Go!"<br>As slowly as I could, I edged towards the end of the corridor. In some ways I wanted to get outside, end it as fast as I could and face whatever lay in front of me. In another sense though, I was trying to draw it out as much as I could to prolong my life- or maybe it was because I was too scared to move any faster. My legs were stiff and refused to push me forward at a quicker pace. Yet just before I reached the end, I stopped, as if there was a barrier that was preventing me from proceeding onwards.  
>"Move, scum!"<br>Something hit the centre of my back, directly between my shoulder blades- the barrier shattered, and I found myself flying through it until I met the ground. Friction between my cheek and the dirt floor burned my skin, searing ot deeply up until the moment I became stationary once again.  
>Wincing, I slid onto my back and lay there, panting. But it was then that I heard the cheering on its full scale, a harsh, taunting sound, the clash of a thousand voices, all shouting and laughing and screaming out words that were all blended into one. And the light... I could barely open my eyes for fear that they would be immolated by the white, yet without my vision I felt helpless.<br>"Oh look- the first contestant has decided to enter!" said another voice, amplified by some kind of electrical device, to this a roar of laughs from every direction ripped out.  
>I groaned, rolled onto my stomach and stood up- it was a difficult task, considering that I was still chained. My whole body was shaking, as if I was having a violent reaction to something, when in fact the only thing that I was suffering from was fear. Like a rabbit in a sudden set of headlights, I was in the middle of a dangerous place that I knew nothing of, and I could barely see anything.<br>It took a few seconds for my vision to be restored, and when it was I realized that I was in the centre of a round stadium, surrounded by endless rows of people that cheered and laughed. Instead of travelling outwards at a diagonal angle however, as was normal of most other arenas I'd seen, the seats seemed to be stacked on top of each other, so that everyone had a bird's eye view on the middle section. The part I was standing on was about thirty metres in diameter and was made up of a plain dirt floor. In fact, the only thing interrupting the pale ground was a bare, leafless tree growing to my right, not in the middle of the stadium but definitely the centre of attention. Well, that was until I'd walked in- now everyone pointed and whooped at me like I was a hero, as opposed to a convict on death row.  
>"The Weaver Bird!" the electrified voice exclaimed- it took me mere momemts to work out that it was referring to me.<br>I'd been given a title? Was I now known as 'Weaver Bird' to the public? It was sick- if I died, then nobody would know my name. I had a desperation to shout out to everyone my real name, the one I hated so much but suddenly wanted to tell everyone. The thought was forbidden, and I quickly shut it away.  
>Because it was my name that had sent me here.<br>"And now, the second contestant!"  
>Directly across from me was a break in the seats, where a metal door set into a wall suddenly opened. The atmospheric fog seeping out from tiny holes in the ground created a film around the figure as they stepped forward into the dirt area, and the voice once again sounded.<br>"Fighting Weaver Bird, it's Crow!"  
>The fog cleared, and the words were confirmed- it was the man from before, the one who had signed me up for this, grinning maliciously like a dog.<br>My whole being went limp- I tried to shuffle back, but stood on my ankle chain and almost fell over.  
>Did they mean... I had to fight Crow? If that was the case, then this battle was over already.<p>

Yay! End of part two, so start of author notes! :D

Part three is going to be… Very red. ^^' Poor Jana… I like to torture my characters! :D Seriously though, poor Jana… I reckon Nishi's been eating his CP. And in answer to a review that someone left (thank you for that, by the way), there will be a female character later on, though she isn't exactly 'nice'. For now, I'm just concentrating on the upcoming Carnival Corpse game, which will start next chapter.

Oh, and if you're wondering where Ganta and Shiro are, you'll have to wait and see. ^^ I'm not making any promises, but they MAY appear in the future. I finally managed to include Crow though, and also Tamaki Tsunenaga. I probably went slightly over the top on the descriptions of him, but then again, he's a very exaggerated character. Really, they couldn't have got a better person to play him in the anime- Junichi Suwabe has one of the best voices in the world, and he's so good at playing psychos…

I'm rambling again. What are you doing reading this? Go write a review and I'll give you 100,000 CP so you can go and buy Candy! Go!

In the meantime, thank you for every comment you have posted about this story- each one means so much and keeps me writing.

Love Lei x

By the way, for any J- Rock fans out there, listen to Orange No Taiyou by Gackt with double headphones- at one point you have Gackt singing in one ear and Hyde in the other! *Q*


	12. Stage 11: Weakness

Stage 11: Weakness

"You're weak- you know that?"  
>"Huh?" I looked up from my painting and stared at my mum, who was sitting across from me on the other side of the table. A cigarette hung between two of her fingers as she scanned the newspaper in front of her.<br>Not lifting her eyes from the table, she said, "Oh yeah, that's right! And if you don't start doing some sport, you'll stay weak for the rest of your life.  
>Slowly I lowered my paintbrush into the pot of water to my right. "Mum, I said this earlier- I'm not a sporty person. I have my hobbies."<br>"What, like painting?" All of a sudden she stood up, walked round to me and snatched up the paper I'd been working on. "I mean, what the hell is this?"  
>My head fell and my hands rested on my lap. "It's, uh, a tree. In a field."<br>Pursing her lips, my mum sighed. "You... Why can't you be normal? Drawing weird pictures at seventeen isn't normal! What about that other Jana across the road? Why don't you try to be more like him?"  
>I failed to see how a tree counted as 'strange', but I was more annoyed at how Mum was constantly comparing me to him. It seemed like something out of a film or manga that there was a boy living on my street with exactly the same name as me- perhaps if this was a story written by someone, then we'd be fated friends. However, Jana Rizuku and I were opposite ends of a magnet, only we repelled each other like two negative charges. He was a true idol in the area, captain of the local football team and a member of the cricket, basketball and swimming squads, whereas I was forgotten. My name, my only means of identity, had been stolen away by someone else, so now I was a mere shadow. Whenever the name 'Jana Rizuku' was spoken, everyone's thoughts immediately slid to the sparkling boy who lived down the lane, and I was ignored.<br>"Oh, and I'm having your hair cut at the weekend." My mother inhaled on her cigarette and blew out a cloud of smoke. "You look like a damn girl!"

I stared across the arena at Crow as he grinned and assumed a stance that meant he was facing me sideways on. It was impossible to try and rationalize with the betrayal I felt- he knew that he'd be facing me in this game! Is that why he signed me up for it? So he could beat me easily and earn Cast Points? It was something that I'd expect from a tenant of Deadman Wonderland, but something about Crow had been different. He'd seemed like he wanted to help me, as a friend- obviously not.  
>"I'm sorry, kid," he exclaimed over the crowd. "Who fights who isn't up to us- it's all decided by the higher- ups." He appeared genuinely sorry, but I wasn't going to fall for his 'kind' act a second time. Though there was the possibility that his words were the truth, it was too much of a coincidence that I was fighting him, out of all people.<br>Seeing my betrayed expression, Crow shrugged. "Suit yourself."  
>As soon as he had finished speaking, his lower arms began bulging slightly. Then, to my horror, blood began to burst out of slits about ten inches long, one on each limb. However, instead of falling to the floor, it seemed to grow outwards and solidify until it had formed two blades, paper- thin and razor- sharp. Each one was slightly longer than his arm and curved round a glossy red scythe.<br>What had just happened? Crow's blood had just grown and solidified- surely that defied the basic laws of this world. But even worse...  
>Blood. I could smell it, sense its presence close by- I was engulfing me, trying to drag me down and swallow me. My feet did their best to steady me as I staggered, and miraculously I managed to remain upright, but that couldn't wipe the scene that lay in front of me from my vision.<br>I recovered just in time to hear the electronic voice announce its final lines.  
>"Deadmen, fight! The Carnival Corpse begins now."<p> 


	13. Stage 12: The Way of the Game

Stage 12: The Way of the Game

Crow brought his arm towards the ground, the blade that had grown out of it slicing down and narrowly missing my elbow. I scrambled out of the way as the other scythe- like object swiped me. However, it hadn't come close enough to make contact with my skin, and instead tore through the fabric of my uniform, leaving part of my collarbone exposed. It was a clean cut, one that could have only been created by something with an edge as fine as a blade of grass. The blades still intrigued and terrified me, and led me to believe that perhaps special effects were being used after all. It didn't put my mind at ease in the slightest though, since there were no doubts in my mind of what Crow's intentions were. The only reason he'd signed me up for this game was so that he could win easily and reap the benefits of doing so, whilst I either died here by his hands or later through lack of Cast Points.  
>By the way things were going, the latter seemed more likely.<br>My lower back slammed against the ground, followed by my shoulder blades, my head and finally my arms and legs, which crashed to the floor like useless components on a machine. I did my best to use them to support me and stand up, but the best I could do was shuffle backwards as Crow's black shadow approached.  
>"Look, I'm not trying to kill you," he said, spreading his arms in an indifferent gesture. "If it were up to me, I'd knock you unconscious in the least painful way possible and get the hell out of here. But, well, the whole idea Is to put on a show."<br>Still recoiling from the ever- aproaching figure, I considered Crow's words. What was as 'putting on a show' a euphemism for? Torture? Was the whole idea of this Carnival Corpse to put a considerably weaker person in a cage and let them be torn apart by someone much more aggressive and experienced in the sport? No, this wasn't sport, nor was it a game. It was... Something else, far more macabre than anything I believed this prison could dish up.  
>Humiliation- they were humiliating me for the entertainment of the crowd. That was the right word.<br>Crow's footfalls stopped and he bent down, making sure to keep his blades pointing away from him, and I noticed how much he suddenly resembled the animal implied by his name. I was half- expecting the extentions on his arms to transform into massive black wings, but no such thing happened, and instead he muttered, "Look around you- do you really think this audience cares what happens?"  
>Around me the crowds were roaring, so much that it had become background noise by now. They cheered, booed, exclaimed, waved and screamed, each individual person's sounds blending with the next to create one untameable creature.<br>I was brought back by Crow's serious tone. "They want blood, and they don't really care how it's spilt. Trust me, I know- I've lost count of the number of games I've been forced to play." His eyes shifted to my hands. "I cut your handcuffs before so that you could move about, and now nothing's stopping you From fighting back. So... Give a good show, okay?"  
>His words seemed almost pleading, as if he was begging me to play along- however, whether I would be able to or not was another matter. Any skill at fighting that I possessed was diminutive, meaning all that I could do was avoid attacks, and even that was a clumsy action that relied mainly on chance. Any hope of me winning this was concealed behind impenetrable clouds- both Crow and I knew that. But then again, perhaps it wasn't a case of winning or losing- maybe it was all about the show.<br>I was so deep in thought that I barely noticed it when Crow raised one of his blades into the air, ready to slam it down onto me, but I slid out of the way a mere second before it hit the ground instead. My next movement was a mixture between a frenzied leap backwards and a scramble in the first direction I thought was safe. My back hit something solid, and for the first time in my whole stay at Deadman Wonderland, I felt the hints of a smile pull at my lips.  
>Because I had an idea.<p> 


	14. Stage 13: Carnival Corpse

Stage 13: Carnival Corpse

My fingers gripped the bark of the tree as hard as they could, turning white under the strain as my legs seeked footholds. There was barely any time to try and get a proper grip, so all in all it was a case of taking hold of the nearest piece of bark and hope that it had an irregular enough texture that I was able to hold onto it well enough to allow me to pull myself up further. I was now well over fiften feet above the ground, out of the reach of Crow- like a hyena, he waited at the base of the tree, blades sharp as ever and ready to leap into action if I fell. Perhaps that thought was what prevented me from slipping and kept me clinging to the tree's trunk all the way until I reached the first branch. Then I was slowly edging along it, worrying whether it could take my weight and at the same time if I was able to balance well enough to stay on.  
>"Like a bird in a tree," Crow chuckled from down below as he paced and stared up at me with his single eye. "A little Weaver Bird."<br>I ignored his muses and crept as far forward as I could until I reached the spot I guessed was the furthest I could go without my platform giving way. There were no leaves, nothing that blocked the path between me and Crow, and that was perfect.  
>Now that I was up here and my pants had slowed down, I could feel my heart beating in my ears. It was a steady pulse, yet quick because of anxiousness and apprehension. In no way was it a pleasant sensation- rather, it made me feel light- headed and overall... Weird. Was this what they called an adrenaline rush? The thought that I wasn't in control of my own body was one that scared me, but at the same time I felt determined to do this, maybe even a tad excited.<br>So I left the thinking behind and leapt off the branch.  
>I was aiming for Crow's chest with my feet, but ended up heading closer to his stomach. It was a straight jump, made to knock him down, maybe even unconscious. He was right about the whole 'pleasing the crowd' thing- that was all we were here for, wasn't it? That was how Deadman Wonderland made its money, since it didn't receive any income from the Government. What's more, I believed him when he said that the fight contestants were completely random- he was holding back his attacks and trying not to hurt me, whilst at the same time fooling the audience into thinking that he was fighting seriously. And since he had weapons and I didn't, this was my way of 'pleasing the crowd'.<br>I saw it before I felt it, the blood flying through the air towards my face. My legs hit the ground at an angle so that I slid a few feet over the dirt and stopped before collapsing onto my back.  
>The pain travelled up my left leg like a snake, biting every inch of it. My uniform had been sliced in two up the length of it, and from my knee to my ankle the skin had been slit open, and now a mixture of sandy dirt and blood filled the indentation and spilt out.<br>"No... Not again..." I could hear myself mutter, but it was background noise. There was a splitting pound in my ears that I guessed was a mixture between pain and the blood that was dribbling from my body.  
>I didn't want to go under- I couldn't if I wanted to win this, or even survive. Yet I felt as though I was being pulled towards the black, despite the fact that I was fighting it with everything I had. My hands squeezed instinctively my leg to try and quell the agony, and though it had a minimal effect, I could feel myself gaining a little more consciousness each second. But that smell... It was poisonous.<br>Perhaps it was because I was so occupied with staying awake that I didn't notice when Crow wrapped his hand around my hair and dragged me upwards.  
>I shrieked until my voice ran dry. Crow had raised me off the ground, allowing me room to kick and grab at my hair to stop the pain that ripped at the back of my head and all down my neck. For a few moments I was disconnected from reality and thrust into a world of relentless agony and then brought back, only to find one of Crow's blades pressing against my throat.<br>I couldn't believe it- he'd actually cut me as I was going past him in the air. I probably deserved it though, since I'd been aiming to hurt him. But now he was dangling me from his hand, like a hunter displaying his catch for everyone to see. And it seemed everyone loved it, due to the audience's senseless shouting.  
>"Looks like you've finally understood what this is all about," Crow jeered close to my ear.<br>I couldn't reply for fear of screaming again if I opened my mouth, but he seemed to sense this, and chuckled macabrely.  
>What had happened? I'd thought we were going to play it safe, but this was a new level of pain. The edge against my neck pushed in further, so much so that if it had gone in any more it probably would've torn the skin open. I was still gripping the base of my hair with fists balled so hard that they were aching, and wincing. It was as if the agony held me in a trance, so that I was unable to move.<br>"Sorry to have to do this to you, kid," came a mutter from my left.  
>At once the hand in my hair, as well as the blade at my throat, left me, allowing me to drop to the ground. But as I soon as my legs touched the floor, they crumpled and I kneeled down, letting out a long whimper of pain.<br>I barely had time to recover as a pair of giant red scythes snaked round my body from behind and slid across my stomach.

Just thought that I'd add a few comments halfway through this section, now that the first Carnival Corpse scene's over. ^^  
>Wow, so much action! I suck at writing it, I know. I kept on going into colloquials as I recounted the fight scene, something that really doesn't suit Jana's character. But I guess the adrenaline rush has altered the way he thinks, so the language is more excitable and rushed.<br>...Or perhaps it's just late and I can't be bothered to write in my usual over- descriptive prose. -_-  
>Oh, and since this story is set in Japan, and the characters speak in Japanese (duh), I wonder what the honorifics after their names would be. It would probably be Crow- San. Crow- Senpai would be a little creepy. o_O And Crow would call Jana... Jana- Kun? Jana- Chan? :L But on that note, there is absolutely NO yaoi in this between the two of them, or any of the characters! Boo yaoi! Kill it with fire! (I wonder how many people are now damning me to hell right now... ._.)<br>Well, at least you now know why I gave the story the title it has. The little Weaver Bird of Deadman Wonderland, which is actually quite a fitting name, since the species has yellow feathers (although Jana's hair is a slightly softer blonde, like Hananusa Aido's from Vampire Knight). It also has something to do with his Branches of Sin fighting style. But what are his dreams? Does he have any, or is Deadman Wonderland turning him into an emotionless shell? I'll leave you to think about that one. ;)  
>Take care, everyone!<br>Lei x  
>P.S. I'm in a mega Gackt fangirly mood this evening, and I've been listening to the 54 songs of his I have on my iPod for the last four and a half hours non- stop. Just thought I'd let everyone know that. :D 'Oasis' is an absolute masterpiece!<p> 


	15. Stage 14: The Dancing Chicken

Stage 14: The Dancing Chicken

Where was I? Through eyes that felt as through they'd been staring at glaring light for the past hour, I inspected the room. It was darker than black, so much so that it seemed white, and everything flashed like a million suns. Would I ever be able to see properly again? Judging by the way I was now, only the worse could be expected.

However, my vision did return, my eyes gradually adjusting my surroundings and differentiating one patch of black from the other. There was the black of the walls; the black of a rectangular object, shorter than a man but clearly a machine, in front of me; the black of a human- shaped figure standing in the corner of the room. And it moved.

Despite the fact my sight was still horribly distorted, I was able to tell that the person was female, mainly because of the telltale _click_ of high heels. Any attempt at escape was out of the question- the straps around my wrists and ankles that secured me to the chair made sure of that. So all that was left for me to do was sit and wait the painfully long time that it took for her to cross the room.

What had I done? During the Carnival Corpse game I'd felt a surge of something unbelievably powerful. At the time I'd identified it as an adrenaline rush, but was a mere hormone that influential? For a moment, almost all the fear had been wiped from my body and I was freed from the cage that I lived in every day of my life, one that held me back and prevented me from doing anything in case I got hurt. Now I felt that terror squeezing me- it was part of what made me Jana Rizuku, and I couldn't imagine myself any other way. My fear of blood was impulsive, something I couldn't switch off no matter how hard I tried. Every time I saw it, my whole body just shut down- it was more of an allergic reaction than a phobia. Though I couldn't be intolerant of blood, could I? It was, after all, coursing through my veins and keeping me alive every moment of the day.

At last the woman reached me, but stopped just short of my chair and remained standing by the structure in front of me. Then all of a sudden, a cascade of lights in a circle around my chair flashed, blinding me again, but this time it was only for a few seconds at most. The sharp contrast between the black and white was enough to leave me dazed as was what I now saw before me.

It was a alright, similar in design to one at an arcade that took your coins and spun round a reel of fruit- three identical pictures and you won the jackpot. Only the images were far from anything that would be expected in an innocent casino. Depicted were simple drawings of parts of the body in monotone colours- an arm, a leg, a stomach, kidneys, an eye and another stomach. They were the only ones currently displayed, but I would've bet that they had pictures of every area of the body.

Another thing I noticed were cameras, two of them at the front, one aimed at the machine and another at the side. They had been filming my every move since the lights had come on. Was this a show, where I was the main attraction? What was going to happen? I could barely hear my thoughts over my heartbeats, and was concentrating on trying to make sense of the sea of paranoid mumbling that my mind had become, so I almost jumped when a high- pitched voice began to squawk from somewhere behind me. As if from nowhere, a giant bird leapt out and began to flap its wings in time with its footsteps, as if trying to fly. It was easy to see that it was a costume worn by someone, an outfit depicting a bloated chicken or something similar, and when in position it faced the camera and spoke in a distorted voice.

"Good day, ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to the Carnival Corpse after- party, an event which I know you've all been looking forward to." It motioned towards me with a fabric wing. "May I introduce Weaver Bird to you, the fine loser of the game that took place a mere hour ago."

'Fine loser'… The words didn't seem to fit one another. I'd failed- Crow had beaten me with no question. Now that I thought about it, I could just feel the stinging of an open wound around my abdomen where he'd sliced me. It was held so tightly with bandages that the pain had been reduced to near numbness, but now that I had it on my mind I couldn't get it off- the underlying nagging of my stomach area that stung like a nettle.

The camera to my right clicked and whirred, and I guessed it was focusing on me. Submissively I bowed my head, not wanting to soak up the glory of being on television. If this was being broadcast live, which I assumed it was, due to the presenter, then I was going to keep a straight face and go along with whatever they wanted me to do. After all, it wasn't as if I was in a position to object, nor would I have dared to speak out if I was.

"Now, here comes the exciting part!" The warped chicken peered close to the camera and raised a wing. "In a few minutes, the wheel on our punishment machine will start spinning round and round and round and round and round! Then Weaver will have to stop it, and whichever part it lands on will be removed. Isn't that exciting?"

All at once my body began to tremble on its own, before I had a chance to decode the presenter's words. And in front of me, the wheel on the box began to turn.


	16. Stage 15: Red

Stage 15: Red

Round and round the wheel spun, a blur or white and black mixed into one hue. My eyes were glued to it, as if subconsciously trying to pick out the individual pictures from the blur. I could tell that I was supposed to say something, react in some way to the machine in front of me, but I couldn't- the seconds slipped by, and all the while I felt hollow as a corpse. I was mortified.

My word was a stutter, a sound barely above a whisper, but they seemed to hear it alright.  
>"St-stop."<br>Once it had been said, my mouth hung open sligtly, perhaps because I was too numb to close it properly- then the wheels started to slow down.  
>The first one stopped.<br>Next the second.  
>And finally the third.<br>Three pictures, all in a row- the outline of the hand on each was identical.  
>The chicken jumped into the air and hit the ground, flapping its wings excitedly. "Ooh, looks like Weaver's chosen! And what a choice! We haven't had a hand in over six months- this should be fun for all of us."<br>Fun? I'd never in my life felt so emotionless, so disconnected from reality. The presenter's idea of fun was watching prisoners being dismembered on live television- was that a view that everyone in Deadman Wonderland shared? If so, they weren't human. There was no way to justify the desire to watch and enjoy the sight of people being tortured- it simply wasn't normal.  
>A flash of silver to my right brought me back, as if it had stimulated something within me that had made me snap. I tried to kick my legs out but found them restrained tight, so pushed down against the ground as hard as I could, pulling at the bonds on my arms with hands balled together so much they ached. My stomach tightened, making me wince as I felt the gashes from Crow scream in protest. Yet it only took a few seconds for me to realize that it was all hopeless- the velcro was too strong. Exhausted, I slumped down in the chair as best as I could, allowing my whole body to move up and down as I breathed in and out heavily and noisily. My hair, formerly shaped around my face, had grown out unevenly, and now clumps of it clung to my damp forehead and cheeks.<br>Closer and closer came the silver flash, a knife clasped firmly in the hand of the woman who I'd seen first. She weilded it uncertainly, as if she was reluctant to do what the machine had instructed, but there was also a part of her expression and body language that ran simultaneously, making it seem like she was going to enjoy it nonetheless. The slight upwards tilt of her lips and shake of her hands told me that her instincts drove her against it, but her mind was set and wanted to cause pain.  
>Slowly she lay the blade against the top of my wrist, and even without it entering me I could feel how deadly sharp it was. I knew escape was a barricaded tunnel, but still I twitched unconsciously with the hope that someone would suddenly turn round and tell me that it was just a show for the television audience- the actual feature was done with special effects, and I could walk away. But that was irrational- I knew that by now.<br>The knife slid across my wrist like butter, and an incision was made so finely that it took a few moments for the blood to rise. It did come however, filling the trench like crimson ink in a pot, and then the pot overflowed. With it came pain that made my eyes water, so that the world became a shriek of agony and red.  
>The knife passed back and forth in a sawing action, each movement butchering my hand deeper and deeper. When it reached the middle, the woman was more aggressive, using the blade to hack at and crush through the bone that was in her way.<p>

It was torture beyond torture, an indescribable agony that tore apart my whole arm and made me scream. I would've given anything to die there and then, to just be over with it. Yet there was no release- there was no escape from the burning.

Blood… There was blood on my face, staining my skin, hair and mind.

A red stump, and a mutilated, lifeless chunk of flesh.

Then nothing.

Hey there! Rei here, as always! And as always, I'm very grateful that you've decided to read my pathetic attempt at a fanfiction- it makes me so happy. :')

I don't know whether my name is Rei Lamperouge or Lei Lamperouge. 'Rei' is the proper spelling, since it means 'Zero' in Japanese. But then again, 'Lei' looks so much nicer written down, and because of the way the Japanese pronounce the 'r' sound, the word 'Rei' is said very similarly to the word 'Lei'. Hmm… I'll do my best to write as Rei Lamperouge from now on. ^^ I'm confusing myself!

I'm no good at writing dramatic scenes- either I go over- the- top on the descriptions, or just rush through, and this time I feel it's the latter. I could have made it so much gorier, if only I'd spent more time on it. I could go back and change it now, but as I read it through again, I realize that it isn't as bad as I formerly imagined it to be. It's just… I think that in some areas of the book, I spend too much time on Jana's thoughts, which is when he goes into one of his bouts of mental diarrhoea. XD But then again, there are points that require more depth, and I think I flunk most of those. I guess I just have different thought processes to him. And since he's my own character, you have NO IDEA how weird that is… O.O

Part 3 has ended! Bring on part 4! And please write a review, even if it's only a few lines- I get so excited when I see that someone's responded to my writing. And from now on, I'll try to reply to them all- it's a promise.

Until we meet again…

Rei x


	17. Stage 16: Stain

Chapter 16: Stain

_Drip... Drip…_

One by one, soft drops fell to the floor and collided with the concrete, creating small explosions of deep red. They were barely audible against the uneven sound of my feet, which I dragged along at a pained pace. I had no desire to go fast- what was the point? What was there for me to continue for?

I felt as though I was viewing the world through a fuzzy television screen- my peripheral vision was blurred and smudged, and everything looked like it was made up of large, low- definition pixels. As for my mind, it had shut down and was running on air. So many things were wrong that I didn't know what to concentrate on; if I did try to delve into anything in particular, I collided with a wall of pain.

I was vaguely aware that my shoulder was pushing against the wall as my legs dragged me along. On the same arm, a black stump hung. What had once been liquid was now a dark, viscous matter that collected at the end like tar.

As I rounded a corner I came to a corridor lined with cell doors- if my numbed impulses were right, then I was close to my cell, close to the place where I could sit and shut myself away without being exposed to the eyes of the outside. Undoubtedly, there were people staring at me at this moment from behind the bars- what I must've looked like to them I didn't know. The doors were ajar, which meant that it was still somewhere in the daytime, but the usual quiet murmur that could be heard in the area was nonexistent. No- one was outside of their cages.

I found my own cell and, relieved, stepped inside. The bed by the wall, with its grey sheets and bristly mattress, had never looked so inviting- but then again, I hadn't ever remembered it looking so cold and detached before, either. There was something out of place, something obvious that was screaming out at me. However, I pushed it to the back of my mind as a tear of pain caused me to fall face- first onto the bed and scream in absolute agony. It could've been said that before I'd managed to build up a barrier between me and the feeling in my arm, but now it had been liquefied. The pain ate its way past my elbow, to my shoulder and then across my back, a hand that arched it round so that I twisted on the bed. Finally I reached a position where as much as my body's weight as I could manage compressed the stump against the mattress, yet still it stung deeply. Still, it numbed the agony enough for me to think with a semi- clear mind, even if it was for a mere moment.

There was a slight rustling, no more than the sound of a person's footsteps through long grass, but still something that marked the presence of another. It was hard to pinpoint exactly where it was coming from- it was close, though. I winced as I slowly loosened some of the pressure on my wound by lifting my knee. A feeling of slight dampness clung to the skin over my joint- blood. It was there, on me, black on my body, perhaps a stain that could never be cleaned off. Blood…

I could smell it. And it wasn't just mine.

From behind me, something wrapped around my throat and squeezed it shut.


	18. Stage 17: Untitled

Stage 17: Untitled

Nishi- with one powerful move he swung his arm round and released so that I was dragged off the bed and collided with the hard floor a few feet away. I struggled and flipped so that I was on what I thought was my back, and my limbs tried to break out of the tangled mess that they were, but all in all I didn't know what part of me was what- it was all too frantic. Every moment though, my eyes were glued on Nishi. In my mind, I was expecting him to lunge at me, yet he didn't advance. I watched him as he sat down on the bed in the semi- darkness and lifted his hands to his head.

"Tell me..." he mumbled in a strained voice. Whether he was addressing me directly I didn't know, but it was obvious that he wasn't fully aware of anything. Black hair fell over dark eyes in a curtain that obscured large portions of his face, and his shoulders moved in a fast- faced rhythm along with his breathing.

I slid backwards, using my legs to push myself away, since my hands were out of the question. Frenetically, Nishi raked his fingers across his scalp, back and forth, scratching deeper and deeper each time. Within half a minute a line of blood rolled out of the shadows on his face. Then, with a jerk, he tore one hand away and let the greasy chunk of hair fall onto the floor.

"Why?" he muttered agonizingly. "Why did they have to die? _Why?_"

"I-I don't..." My lips were trembling, my body stiff. Despite what he was doing, Nishi didn't appear to be in pain, and continued to knead his scalp, dislodging more and more handfuls of hair. He seemed to be in a trance, muttering inaudible words that probably wouldn't have made any sense even if I could hear them.

As he sat, bent over his knees, I crept back, edging ever- closer to the cell door. But all of a sudden, Nishi stopped. He looked up. His facial expression was hard to see in the darkness, though I could tell that it had changed greatly from the way his breathing had become more deep and ragged.

"Killed them," he hissed. "You... You let them _burn_!"

Moving as if he was drunk, Nishi leapt forward, but tripped so that he ended up a broken pile on the floor next to me. One hand grabbed the material around my collar, though I managed to tear myself away before he had taken a proper hold. He carried on swaying, assuming a pose that was neither crouching nor standing, but bent over himself whilst giving out a low, continuous growl. Meanwhile, my 'fight- or- flight' instinct, somewhat similar to but not nearly as strong as the one I'd felt in the fight against Crow, had been switched on, and at that moment I knew that I had to get as far away from the monster that was in front of me as possible. Despite how little time I'd known him, I knew that this wasn't a part of his personality that he usually expressed. In fact, he seemed completely inhuman, with his self- mutilation and frenzied mumbling that made little sense- it truly was a horror to watch.

The back of my shoulders hit a set of icy bars, but to my relief they fell away behind me and swung round so that I could continue to push myself away. I didn't really know how I was moving- my legs were completely drained, yet they somehow delivered me to the corridor. Looking inside, the cell was almost completely black, though something was definitely stirring in there. I wasn't safe yet, though- with one final wave of energy, I hooked my foot round one of the bars of the door and swung it round until it slammed against the latch, metal on metal, and clicked shut.

A hand, stained crimson in some areas, curled round on the metal pillars, and for a moment a face emerged before both disappeared back to the darkness.

And I could've sworn that it was smiling.


	19. Stage 18: Filler Arc

Stage 18: Filler Arc

"_Hey, are you okay?"_

"_Mm," I responded without lifting my pencil from the page. Frustrated, I flipped it round and carefully traced the rubber end along the stray line I'd just drawn - it came off easily._

_The girl sitting on the bed giggled. "You just looked a little annoyed."_

"_Oh, was I annoyed?" I raised my eyebrows, still not bringing my eyes away from my work, except to glance occasionally at the one who was acting as my model. It was an amateur sketch compared to those produced by professionals, but even I was pleased with this one. The girl staring dreamily out of my notebook far from mirrored the one in front of me, yet it was recognizable, at least. What she would think about it was another matter altogether…_

"_Are you almost done yet?"_

_Wordlessly, I turned the pad round to face her, and watched as she broke out of her position to peer closer. When she did, she gasped, then broke out into a light- hearted laugh that sounded as though she was on the verge of crying._

"_Wow… I don't know what to say, and I know that's horrifically cliché, but I don't." She gave a small sniff. "You've made her far too pretty."_

_I glanced round at the paper. "On the contrary, I'd say I haven't made it pretty enough."_

_She was silent for a moment, and at once I panicked, wondering whether I'd offended her in some way, but all of a sudden she stepped off the bed and sat cross- legged in front of me. There was a smile on her face, smaller, but somehow deeper and warmer than before._

"_Jana… Would you say you like me?" she asked slowly, the faint hue of pink threatening to take over her cheeks._

_I opened my mouth to reply, but she quickly added in, "I know we've only known each other for a year or so, but what I'm saying is… Would you go out with me, if I asked you?"_

_In my mind, I was grinning, though decided to tease her a little. "That depends- are you asking?"_

"_No! Of course I'm not!" she scowled. "It was just in case I do ask."_

"_Well, then I would say yes." I grinned. "But you're not asking, are you?"_

_Finally, her skin broke out in a deep red- she looked utterly disappointed. Perhaps she knew I was only joking and wanted to play along, but maybe she thought I was genuinely telling the truth, in which case I needed to tell her otherwise._

"_Yes."_

_That one simple word… It changed everything. The girl's change of emotion lit the whole air around her- I could feel it radiating from her. The smile that took over her face could've rekindled a burnt- out flame- it was truly beautiful. Taking her time, she crawled over to me, sat so that her legs were folded either side of mine as I leaned up against the wall and rested on my thighs. Then, gradually, she parted her lips and drew them close to mine until they met._

_There was a shared moment of uncertainty that resulted in a pause, but a few seconds later we both melted into the kiss. She was so close… I wrapped both hands around her back and pulled her in so that her stomach touched mine, yet this didn't cause her to falter. Her own hands were in my hair, tangled deep within the gold to get a better grip. As for her mouth, it felt so perfect against mine, like we had been crafted to fit one another._

_I was half- expecting her to pull back first, but to my surprise it was me, longing for breath after so long without it. I was panting, drained of energy but still wanting to carry on. It seemed that she was the same way, and as he stared, without words, at each other, I knew that we were on the same wavelength._

_She loved me, and I loved her back._

_Perhaps we'd known it all along, from the times we'd sat together in school, or visited each other's houses in the afternoon to play games or mess around in the garden, but were just too shy to say it. One thing was for sure, though- we were letting out a cascade of emotions that had been building up a long time._

_It was something that we just had to accept._

Mitsuki Aria… My finger subconsciously traced her name onto the floor.

I withdrew my hand and folded it over my legs, which I'd drawn into my chest, then lowered my head so that I was staring at the material covering my thighs. Before long, a new kind of stain began to appear on the clothes, aside from the blood and sweat that had made them so stiff and uncomfortable.

My tears.


	20. Stage 19: Towards The End

Stage 18: Towards The End

I raised my head, half- hoping that I was in my room, alone- no collars, no uniform, no pain. However, I should've known then that that was a reality as twisted and cruel as Deadman Wonderland itself.

From somewhere, a high- pitched _beep_ had begun to sound. For how long it had been going on I didn't know, though it was constant, like the second hand on a clock. Sniffing, I ran my sleeves under my eyes, wiping away the remaining tears that reddened my skin, and stood up. My body felt weak, almost too flimsy to support itself- how I'd managed to move so fast out of the room at all in the first place was a complete mystery to me.

I looked left at the dark cell, then straight ahead, where a bleak grey corridor stretched until it gently bent round. Now I knew what the _beep_ing sound was. Or perhaps I'd known it since first hearing it, but didn't want to admit my suspicion.

It was my collar. Because my time was up- I was going to die.

Deep in lethargy, I began to walk.


	21. Stage 20: Drifting

Stage 20: Drifting

"Hey, it's you!"

Knowing I held a blank expression but caring little about how I looked, I turned my eyes to the two men who had just come running down the corridor towards me. They were guards undoubtedly, since they both wore the standard security uniform that I'd seen around and held pistols in holders by their sides.

"I'm so glad I'm finally meeting you, Weaver!" one of them said excitedly. His words were slurred, as if he was deeply intoxicated. In fact, the way both of them looked and acted suggested they were both heavily drunk, and had been for quite a while. They could walk well enough, even if they occasionally tilted their bodies to one side before regaining balance, but their faces slumped, and when they spoke it was either mumbled or shouting.

"Show me your arm!" the other exclaimed. "You got your hand cut off, didn't you? I- was watching it on the- television…" He made motions with his hands during the breaks in his sentences, which were obviously caused by his drunkenness.

All of a sudden there was a huge _crash_ as something raced by my ear. I realized, as my heart set in motion, that the man who had spoken first had a pistol aimed at my head, held shakily in both hands. There was no blood as far as I knew, which meant that the bullet hadn't hit me, though the whole side of my face burned from where it had passed just inches away.

Normally I would've either frozen with terror or ran, but now I felt nothing- my heartbeats returned to normal and I stood, staring at the two men, A wave of hysteria had taken over the one who'd fired as he began to laugh, laugh so much that he was doubled over himself, the gun hanging carelessly on his finger. It was mere seconds before it hit the other as well, and in no time at all they were both hissing and roaring in amusement.

"Do it again!"

"No."

"Go on…"

"No!" The man with the weapon suddenly turned serious, pointing a quivering finger at his companion. "Guns are dangerous- very dangerous. They can kill…"

"So kill me."

The words left my mouth without too much thought, though I didn't rush to take them back. My head was tilted towards the ground in a way that I could see the men, but was submissive- I wasn't going to fight back. Like a metronome, the sounds from my collar continued, steadily counting down the remaining minutes, maybe even seconds, of my life. In a way, I wished that there was a way to speed it up and spare myself the agonizing wait, but I guessed that that was one of the games of this place- not knowing when you were going to die, and being forced to worry about it every living day.

I almost smiled when the man raised the gun and aimed it at my head. Just don't miss, I begged in my mind, though that was probably too much to ask, judging from his current state. However, I could deal with a few stray bullets if it meant that death would be following straight after. Besides, it was probably faster than allowing the timer to count down to zero and letting the poison do its work.

The last thing I saw was the black barrel before my shoulder exploded. Pain which should have been familiar to me by now tore at the top of my arm, but I remained still, holding my breath.

When I thought I couldn't keep it in any longer, I bit my lip and felt my eyes grow wet. Then, slowly, I opened my mouth and whispered, "Again."

The guard aimed a second time, this time holding the gun sideways, like he was the mean character in a spy movie.

_And Sir Bond, the world's finest, raises his weapon to land the finishing blow…_

I closed my eyes as the deafening sound split my head. It echoed again and again through my mind, but to my relief there was no pain, just silence once the gunshot had died down.

For once, I felt at peace. Because I was drifting. And with a fraction of luck, I wouldn't come down.

Ever.

So, another section down... This one took ages to write, and I don't know why. Maybe it was because I spent so long deciding how to set out the rest of the story that I forgot to concentrate on what was going on at the time. I don't know... Well, it's here now. ^^ Enjoy! I had to release chapters 19 and 20 as a double because otherwise people would've been all o_O when they read 19, since it's so short and random. I also apologize about the weirdness of chapter 18. Sheesh, that was awkward to write... ¬_¬ It's important though, so I hope you can bear with me whilst I try to explain Jana's messed- up thoughts.

I was going to say something else as well, but I've forgotten. Oh yeah, I noticed a while ago that 'Dreamweaver' has the same initials as 'Deadman Wonderland'! :D That was in no way intentional- I didn't even consider it when thinking up a name. I'm usually completely rubbish when thinking of titles for stuff (you can see that in some of the chapter headings ^^'), but I thought that the name fit, what with Jana living in a bit of a dream world and his Carnival Corpse name being Weaver Bird... And if you're wondering, the names 'Jana Rizuku' and 'Nishi Inarami' were purely made up- I didn't look up kanji or meanings for them, as I do with some of my other characters. So if you're a reader who knows Japanese, feel free to interpret them as you wish! (The name Nishi was actually stolen from my favourite Gantz character. :3)

As always, keep the reviews coming! They're really, really encouraging, and keep me writing. Dreamweaver will continue, at least for another part. I hope you all enjoy it! ^.^

Lei x


	22. Stage 21: System Reboot

Stage 21: System Reboot

It didn't last for long,

The feeling of floating, the weightlessness… It was all over in a few seconds, and then the pain bit back with sharpened teeth. My shoulder stung badly, though I supposed it would after what had happened. But surely it was out of place? I thought that once you were dead, any physical feelings that you had before would be abolished- obviously that wasn't the case. Or the other possibility was that I was still alive…

That was the option that I dreaded.

My eyes opened, with little input from me, to a wall of red. It was almost an angry, aggressive colour, yet it lacked a sense of hostility, as if it were working with me as opposed to against me. Despite this however, the faint smell that lingered from it clouded my head and made my heart stop beating momentarily.

I froze solid- blood.

Surely blood wasn't meant to be like this, though. The structure that was a few inches in front of my nose was solid and seemed to be almost rock- like. A quick glance to my left showed the wall continued until it slid over my shoulder, which it seemed to mould into. Like a wave, it rose up from the wound there and curled around the front of my head like a curved mirror, frozen in its protective position as though it had turned to ice in the timespan of half a second.

Then all of a sudden it fell, a gloopy, red mass dropping to the floor.

"Nice move."

Without even turning, I knew from the harsh, slightly sarcastic tone of voice who was walking up to me from behind. A mixture of relief, with a little fear blended in, washed through me. Crow… He grinned as he passed where I stood before turning to the two drunken guards.

Still addressing me, he said, "I was about to intervene, but it seems you've got it nailed."

As for the men, they seemed furious at this interruption. "Back off! We were…" One of them began shouting, but was swiftly cut off my Crow's fist, which sank deep into his stomach. He barely had time to exclaim, as immediately after the convict's hardened knuckles slammed into his face with such force that I doubted he could've survived it without his skull being significantly fractured. When the other uniformed man came towards him and raised his weapon, it was knocked from his hands effortlessly. He looked shocked for a moment, and Crow took this opportunity to beat down on the top of his head, so that he slumped, seemingly lifeless, to the ground.

In the span of a few seconds, both guards lay unmoving on the floor, one bleeding heavily from his head.

Without realizing it, I was shaking, partially from the agony in my shoulder and partially from the blood that was everywhere around me. However, what I'd just seen terrified me to the core- Crow had just attacked, and possibly murdered, two people, both of whom were collapsed with brutal injuries to their bodies. He crouched over them, cleaning the red specks off his hands with his tongue like some kind of animal. A moment later he saw me staring and smiled, an expression that exposed a line of teeth.

"Hey, Weaver- you coming?" Not put off by my fixed stare, it appeared, he straightened up and approached me, but walked straight on as opposed to stopping. "And in case you're wondering, they're just unconscious."

Whether it was knowing this fact that made me move I didn't know, but I turned and followed him nonetheless. Perhaps it was simply because of the fact that I was too terrified of doing anything else. However, what I did know was that the sound coming from my collar was as constant as ever, and if I were to spend my last moments anywhere, I was determined not to in a bleak corridor, faced with the presence of two bleeding bodies.

"Comfortable?"

It was a slightly stupid question, though I responded quietly, "Y-yes, thank you."

"Good." Crow took a chair with one hand and placed it effortlessly on the ground beside me. "Though surely you'd prefer to sit on something, as opposed to the ground?"

My head shook back and forth a little in an indicator that I was fine with the floor. Crow's room was very similar to mine, though I supposed it would be, since this was a prison, after all. However, the changes were few and obvious- there was only one bed for a single tenant, and altogether it was slightly darker in the way of colours. It also seemed to be a lot more isolated from the other rooms in the block, since it was separated off by several doors and corridors that I'd never even been aware of, let alone set foot in.

He sighed, readjusting the eyepatch over the right side of his face. "I saw you in your room before you ran into that trouble a while ago," he said.

"You did?" A lot of the fear that I'd felt before had subsided, but I still felt wary to be around Crow. Even now, as he took his place on the chair that he'd offered to me, I could sense some kind of dark menace emanating from him. On the other hand, he had saved me with the best intentions in mind- I owed him that, at least.

"Yeah, I was walking by and took a look. He accused you of killing someone, didn't he?"

I nodded, the memories of my roommate's sudden outburst coming back to me. "He said I'd 'let them burn'."

Crow raised his arms into the air and stretched out, so that the long cape- like black coat he wore fell either side of him and his front muscles were revealed. Apparently unaware of this or just not caring, the second of which I was assuming due to the similar fashion in which he usually dressed, he lowered his hands and crossed them across his chest.

"Judging from what I've seen, I'd say your little Nishi friend's got a little problem with his personality. And I wouldn't be going too far in thinking that he's a bit of an arsonist as well."

"Arsonist?"

"Yep." He ran his hand over the back of his head to straighten out a patch of hair. "From what he said to you… It's all too easy to do things you'd never even dream of when you've got two sides of yourself to deal with. I could be completely wrong here, but I'm pretty convinced that that's the reason he's wound up here."

Nishi… Was that true? Did he really have multiple personalities? Now that I thought about it, Crow's logic did fit very well with what I'd seen, though it seemed just a little… Unreal. And an arsonist? How he could deduce that from just that one line was beyond me, though I had too many questions to concentrate on just one. Besides, it wasn't as if I had any time to ask them, as the continuous _beep_ of my collar made sure. Wasn't it almost time, now? How long would it bebefore the sound stopped?

"Oh, I suppose you want a little something for that irritating bitch of a noise…"

I lowered my line of vision to Crow's hand, which had extended in my direction. Nestled in it was a small, rounded object, wrapped in black and white striped paper with the ends twisted round and round until they protruded in a bow- like shape.

"Crow…?"

"It's doing my head in!" he snapped.

Not really knowing how to feel, my trembling hand reached out to take the candy, wondering whether or not it was truly real or would disappear when my skin made contact. Once it was between my fingers, an emotion finally emerged. I didn't know was it was to start off with, since it was one that I hadn't felt once since entering Deadman Wonderland. No matter how hard I tried, it was impossible to pinpoint it exactly and give it a name, yet it filled me up and nullified every stabbing pain in my body.

Perhaps it was hope.


	23. Stage 22: Far From Perfect

Stage 22: Far From Perfect

"Now! Go!"

A twisting line of red rose from the dark pool on the floor, emerging vertically at first like a cathedral's spire, but then bending round and becoming more and more warped. It hung in the air for a moment before rushing and flattening into a rounded, plate- like shape that was thin as a blade. I extended my arm, took it and threw it like a discus into the nearest wall; however, it began to lose its form once it left my hand, and its collision resulted in a messy explosion of viscous liquid that showered everything within a radius of several metres.

I wiped the blood off my face quickly with my sleeve and panting, turned to Crow.

He was leaning against the far wall in the huge training room, still clothed in the same open- chested coat. Gradually, he unravelled his arms from their crossed position and began to make his way over to me.

"Good!" he exclaimed. "Far from perfect, but better."

"Thank you. I still prefer the first one, though," I replied.

"Hmm..." Once Crow had reached me he stopped and took hold of my right arm. The wound at the end looked as though it had been newly created, though it was at least four weeks since it had been made.

He mumbled, "Do that one again."

"Okay..." I took a step back and placed my arm at waist level. Then, from deep inside my body, I began to call upon a force that seemed all too willing to exert itself.

It had been a month since that day, the one when I'd been saved by and fallen under the 'tutelage' of Crow. At first I hadn't managed to grasp it at all, the fact that I could manipulate my own blood and use it as a weapon outside of my body, as he had done in my battle with him a while before. Of course, the whole idea made me feel sick- the first week had been a succession of blackouts, uncontrollable shaking and tears. However, I gradually managed to train myself to ignore the fact that it was my own bodily fluids I was holding- now the sight, smell and feeling of it was mere commonplace to me. There was still an underlying instinct that told me to be repulsed by it all, though I'd learnt to ignore it, at least during the time I was training.

Even Crow couldn't explain why it could be done, the manipulation of blood that we could do by our own free will. According to him, the ability, known as 'Branches of Sin', chose its users at random, and was the reason prisoners were segregated. Those able to use it were named 'Deadmen' and placed in a separate block, which was where we were now. On the other hand, normal convicts were kept in the rest of the prison, as ignorant as the public to what we could do.

Inside my lower arm, something awakened. It moved, pushing through the soft flesh where my hand used to be. Soon it was visible, a hundred writhing worms breaking the surface and combining to form a single red mass. I should've been used to the pain by now, but still found it difficult to refrain from wincing as the tendril- like structures reopened the wounds that had already been torn open so many times that day.

"So, you prefer this one, huh?" Crow asked.

"Yes," I answered simply.

As the liquid solidified, I looked down and admired the dark, glossy structure that served as an extension of my arm, a hand built from my own blood.


	24. Stage 23: The Little Woodpecker

Stage 23: The Little Woodpecker

After a few seconds, the blood retracted messily, some of it snaking back into my hand but the majority splashing onto the floor at my feet.

"You know, I've been thinking," Crow said, beckoning me over. "I'm starting to see someone in you."

Unsure of what he meant, I walked over and sat down next to him, cross- legged in the middle of the room.

"You're coming on really well. I mean, you're still a bit crap, but definitely a hell of a lot better than that pathetic wreck you were a while ago."

I wasn't sure whether this was meant to be a compliment or insult- I took it as the former. However, when I glanced back at Crow, he was staring straight ahead, as if saddened by something. For a few moments he remained like this, but then his eyes snapped back to me.

"Ever heard the name 'Woodpecker' being thrown around here?" he asked.

I shook my head.

"Strange... He's pretty famous, almost like a legend here at Deadman Wonderland. You sure you haven't even heard him mentioned once? Igarashi Ganta, the Wookpecker."

"Definitely," I answered quietly. My hair was beginning to slide out of the loose ponytail that I always put it in nowadays when training, so I adjusted it whilst speaking. "Why, do you know him?"

Crow snorted. "Yeah, I know little Ganta. I helped him develop his Branches of Sin- it wasn't as if he really needed it, though. He was a natural. I mean, the kid won his first Carnival Corpse flat out." All of a sudden, he jabbed at his eyepatch with a finger. "Guess who got the other end of the stick?"

How ironic, I thought, that both this Ganta and I would fight the same person in our first contest- it seemed that he was a lot more skilled than me though, as a sharp pain from my severed wrist reminded me. However, instead of feeling bitter about it, I was intrigued to learn more about this person, and why Crow appeared to be so warm towards him. It was a rare emotion for someone so hardened, though patches of it were breaking through on his face, a fondness that made me think he held a lot of respect for Ganta.

"Yep, he was the best of the best when it came to manipulating his Branches of Sin." As he spoke, Crow pulled out a cigarette from deep inside his coat, put the tip of it between his lips and lit it with a lighter from the same place. He drew in deeply on the cigarette before replacing the lighter and carrying on. "The first few months he was here, he never lost a fight, not to anyone. Christ, he even led Scar Chain to freedom..."

"Scar... Chain?"

"A group of Branches of Sin users who rose up and rebelled. They got pretty far- I think they all managed to escape in the end, actually. Well, Ganta and one of the girls stayed behind, but apart from that it was a success."

Freedom... It was an entity that seemed so far away, so untouchable. Was a rebellion even achievable? Of course, the prison would've upped its security considerably since Scar Chain, though surely there was some other way to escape. My mind became sidetracked and began racing through every possibility, tapping the ice over and over to find the part where it would all cave in. But there was nothing- no plans apart from brute force, which I clearly didn't possess, came to mind. Perhaps the only way was to fight, in which case I needed to train and become stronger.

"Crow, do you think I could meet Ganta?" I asked.

"_Meet_ him?"

At first, I thought the man standing next to me was the one who had spoken, but then I realized that the words were too high, almost out- of- sync, to fit Crow. What's more, it was coming from across the room in the general area of the doorway.

"If you want to meet Woodpecker, then your best bet is to wait a couple of days and let the timer on your collar run out," Tamaki Tsunenaga said, leaning against the door frame.


	25. Stage 24: Smiles All Round

Stage 24: Smiles All Round

"You've made a huge mess of my room," Tamaki said.

Hair brushed back and eyes shining, his eyes circled the area and fell on me. The two guards assisting him carried heavy guns, fingers twitching over the triggers.

Dead? In my mind, I repeated the word over and over. Why did I suddenly feel so shocked and hollow? Despite the fact I didn't know Ganta and never had done, there was a painful, guilty feeling that had begun to gnaw away at my insides.

Tamaki's grin never faltered, apart from when he was interested in something, in which case it transformed into a mix between a light smirk and enquiring stare. "Oh? You seem to be sad about it, Weaver Bird. Didn't Crow tell you?" His eyes travelled to the man next to me.

Due to the new arrival, I hadn't managed to shoot a glance at Crow, but when I did I was slightly taken aback at the look of intense hate that had dominated his face. His expression revealed nothing but contempt in the form of a hard glare that was aimed directly at Deadman Wonderland's director.

"I know, I'll sign you up to fight him, the one who killed Woodpecker," Tamaki said, still addressing me. "Then you can get you revenge. Ooh, it's like something out of a film! Or a book…"

With these words, I snapped back into focus. "What?" Was he suggesting that I fight again? Of course, it was something that I knew would eventually have to happen, but did it have to be so soon? Yet when I thought about it, I'd been relying on Crow's kindness and surplus of Cast Points for far too long- I had to begin supporting myself. These past few weeks, I'd been acting like a featherless bird in a nest, counting on its mother to feed it and keep it warm. It was time for me to fledge.

My accepting nod almost sent Tamaki into convulsions.

"So exciting, so exciting!" he chanted. "Weaver versus… Wait, it would be even more fun if I didn't tell you who it is. That would just triple the suspense."

As he spoke, he moved his hands in the same way someone would when telling a story to children, illustrating the speech with wiggling fingers and the occasional light clap. All in all, he looked like a television entertainer for pre- schoolers, though there was an underlying dark edge, an unstableness that could lash out at any time and made me think that he was nowhere near safe enough to have around people, let alone young children.

Once he'd calmed down, Tamaki's grin fell to a normal smile. "Sorry my visit was so short and spontaneous, but there are other matters that require my attention at this moment. Until tomorrow, Weaver- I shall be seeing you at the Carnival. And what a Carnival it shall be."

He stepped back and began to lead the guards away, but before completely disappearing from view, he turned back to us.

"I'm not an easily- angered person Crow, but if I were you, I'd stop staring at me like that. We wouldn't want to lose our other eye now, would we?"


	26. Stage 25: Hot And Cold

Stage 25: Hot And Cold

The walk back to my cell was painful.

But it wasn't in a way that I'd ever experienced before whilst making the journey. I could remember the physical agony I'd been in with my hand whilst returning from the Punishment Game. Other times, throughout my weeks of training, my body ached deeply and felt exhausted from the stain I'd been put under all day. However, now I was in another kind of discomfort, one that attacked me mentally as opposed to physically.

What to do? I was going to lose.

I was so happy when my bed gave me something to collapse onto. All the positive thoughts that I'd been building up over the past months were quickly seeping away to leave me cold as ice and isolated from any feelings of happiness. The experience of fighting in the Carnival Corpse, and then the subsequent Punishment Game, were coming back to me. Everything was returning…

I placed my hands over my eyes, threw back my head and screamed, a scream that turned into a whimper, a whimper which melted into tears.

Why was I here? How had I been so _stupid_ as to allow myself to do what I'd done? Because of my actions, I was in this prison, about to fight for my life against someone who undoubtedly wouldn't hesitate to kill me if the situation called for it.

_Why can't you be like the other Jana Rizuku?_ My mum's voice filled my head as I remembered one of her lectures, the repeated line that hurt more and more each time it was spat in my direction. I wasn't good enough- I needed to change my interests, my very hobbies, my very self, before she would pay attention to me. All throughout my life, I'd constantly been compared, pushed down and dragged up. It wasn't the time to begin thinking of such things, though I couldn't help but feel a deep regret, a sense of inferiority. If only I could just flush everything from my mind and go with my impulses.

Yes, that might work… If I could just forget everything and act on my impulses, then surely I would be able to survive. I had to become like the other prisoners, like Crow- hard, instinctive, animalistic. Yet the memories had almost become entwined within my being- there was no way to abolish them. And besides, my recollections of times before this place contained some of the best of my life, so why would I want to discard them? Maybe there was a balance, a way to become engulfed in the frenzy of Deadman Wonderland in a way that I would keep on living, but still retain my humanity. Could I pull it off? Me, the failure?

I would go down fighting for it- that much I knew.

My body was covered in a thin layer of sweat, despite the fact that the air in the cell wasn't particularly hot. In any case, it was uncomfortable, so I unfastened the upper half of my uniform, sat up and pulled it down to my waist. After a moment's pause though, I remembered that I was wearing trousers underneath, so slid the prison suit off completely. Despite the fact that it was made from a relatively light, yet resistant, material, the amount of heat it trapped was huge- the relief of my skin coming into contact with cool air was immediate.

Before sitting down again, I reached under my bed and pulled out a small notepad and ballpoint pen. Convicts were granted the right to bring a single comfort item to the prison, and whilst others had chosen, lockets, photos and even stuffed animals, mine was a simple collection of white pages, bound together in a glossy spotted cover, the kind of pad you could find at any local newsagent. Each sheet was plain and untouched, beautifully crisp and without blemished.

I didn't pause to consider what to do. The nib of the pen seemed to travel across the page with surprising ease, despite the fact that I rarely used ink to draw. It took a few moments before I could find the right body position, but once by back was against the wall, my legs were bent in front of my face and my notepad was resting on the top of my thighs, I found I could sketch easily.

After a small amount of careful experimentation, I realized that I was able to create different line thicknesses by adjusting the angle of the nib, much like a pencil. It didn't provide as much freedom of course, though once I began applying the technique, the whole drawing became more lifelike at once. A smile was tugging at the edges of my lips, one that I wasn't aware of until I found myself grinning down at my work.

A girl's face met my eyes, looking out at me from the page of the notepad. Though the sketch was mediocre and didn't perfectly reflect the person from my mind, it was close enough to serve as a painful reminder of the one memory that I would hold onto until the end.

"Mitsuki Aria." My lips uttered her name of their own accord. If I were to fight, it would be for her- nobody else mattered to me as much.

Slowly, I lowered the pen and slumped back against the wall, staring at my knees for lack of anything else to watch. The Carnival Corpse was tomorrow, and I needed as much sleep as possible, though I found it difficult to rest, since my mind was racing and could only think of that one person.

Somewhere in the corridor, a door opened and clicked shut, and then footsteps sounded against the ground. For a moment I thought they were going to stop at my cell, but they simply passed by and subsequently faded away. As for me, I hugged the notepad into my chest and closed my eyes, waiting for my senses to close themselves down and sleep to arrive.

In other words, waiting for the Carnival Corpse to begin.

I was watching Deadman Wonderland with my sister the other day (I've seen the Japanese version before, but since she only watches dubs I'm rewatching it in English with her. It's actually quite good! Eric Vale does a good job of Tamaki.), when I just thought, NOOOO! I HAVEN'T WRITTEN THE NEXT PART OF DREAMWEAVER FOR AGES! Yes… It was a strange sight, right in the middle of an episode, for me to start spazzing out and grabbing my notepad, etc. So, there I was, scribbling away about Jana whilst trying to watch Ganta running through the vents with Shiro and Yoh. And yes, we are only up to episode 3. e_e

5 parts out of 6 of my story are done. I'm really excited about writing this last part- it's been something I've been building up to for 25 chapters. And sorry the description of Jana's feelings was a bit crappy in this part, but I hope to get everything straight in the next bit. Everything will be revealed…

You have no idea how long I've been wanting to say that. :D

Please leave comments, reviews, your honest opinion of the story. I want to make the last part the best and most epic, and I can only do that with the help and support of others.

Until next time, people!

Lei x


	27. Stage 26: Memento Mori

Stage 26: Memento Mori

I was awoken early the next morning by a pair of guards, both wielding guns. For some reason, they'd chosen to march straight into the room and probe my shoulder with the tips of their weapons as opposed to knocking, as was the usual procedure. Perhaps those scheduled to die in the Carnival Corpse were just so worthless they didn't need to be treated properly, I thought to myself.  
>As I stood to leave, I remembered that I was still only wearing my trousers, and blushed. The attendants snickered, but turned and told me they wouldn't look.<br>Since I was going to be moving around a lot, I figured it best to dress only in the uniform, considering I'd probably get hot enough as it was, without the help of extra layers around my legs.  
>Overall, it almost seemed dream- like, the process of deciding what to wear and putting it on. The fact that I was so tired I could feel my eyelids being pulled downwards probably contributed somewhat to the unreal atmosphere- it was as if the world surrounding me, the cell walls, the bed, the people, were merely figments of my imagination. It was almost worrying how little anxiety I felt about what I knew was coming. I was approaching the thought of fighting again in the Carnival Corpse with absolute calmness and lack of any fear or nervousness- whether or not this was due to my fatigue I didn't know.<p>

Once I had finished, the guards turned round and led me out of the cell into the corridor system. Of course, there were no handcuffs or other forms of restraints involved- both the wardens and I knew that such things weren't necessary, what with the collars and guns that everyone who wasn't a convict carried. However, I could tell that the two people leading me were watching my movements very closely, as if they were expecting me to suddenly lash out at them and make a run for it. There was little to no chance of that happening, though- I was still in my trance, dazed from the absence of emotion that was inside me.

"Hey you. 106905," one of the guards suddenly said. It was a moment before I realized that he was actually talking to me- only once had someone referred to me as my prisoner number, and that person was Tamaki. Even so, it was sewn into my breast pocket, and it was probably easier for him to look there than try and remember my name.

"I know we're not meant to hand notes between prisoners, but… Well, I suppose it wouldn't hurt once in a while." He handed me a folded piece of paper. For a moment, I simply held it between my fingers numbly, but then unfolded it and read the writing that had been scribbled down.

Hey, I don't know if this'll even reach you. They didn't let me visit you before the Carnival Corpse, so this is my crappy substitute. Good luck out there- you'll do fine.

Kick. His. Ass.

Senji

Senji? It took a few seconds for me to work out who the sender was, but it was so obvious once I thought about it. Crow didn't seem like one to send notes, though it was hard to imagine anyone else speaking in the same tone. I could imagine him sitting there, scribbling a word and then pausing to see if it sounded too out of sync with his normal speech.

The letter was almost enough to bring a slight smile to my face, but evidently not quite- perhaps if I hadn't been so down, then it would've brightened me up, but that wasn't the case now. Quickly I folded it and placed it in one of my pockets. One of the guards nodded at me once, then motioned to the other and carried on leading me to the arena.

"…And so, let's meet the Deadmen!"

The process was no longer a surprise to me. I stood at my end of the arena as the announcer shouted excitedly through the microphone at the hungering crowds in the surrounding stands. Of course, I was announced first- Tamaki's aim was to make me hold on until the last minute before I found out anything, what with his love of 'suspense'. However, his intentions fell short, since I still didn't feel panicked at my situation, or even apprehensive.

It could've been said that I was ready to accept my death peacefully.

My name was announced, and I understood my cue to walk to onto the sandy ground of the arena. Sure enough, I was met with screams and cheers of admiration and support. The bloodlust wasn't yet present, though I was sure it would emerge once the first gash was made.

"Now ladies and gentlemen, please show your appreciation for our second contender…"

On the other side of the fighting area, a person stepped forward. It wasn't easy to see them properly, what with the distance and the angle of the sun, but it was easy to pick out simple features, enough to build up in my mind an image of who I was fighting.

Something clicked within me, as if someone had suddenly started a fire and set it burning throughout my body. At once I became aware of every aspect of my surroundings, of every substance touching my body, be it clothes, ground or sweat. The sensation almost mirrored the one that I'd felt when fighting Crow, but to go from feeling nothing to this in a second made it all the more intense.

I looked at them, and they looked back at me.

And smiled.


	28. Stage 27: Technique

Stage 27: Technique

It wasn't a smile that I didn't recognize. In fact, it was fresh in my memories, something that I couldn't forget, no matter how hard I tried. Within my mind, I could picture the same mouth grinning out at me from between the bars of my cell, seething, taunting, completely and utterly unstable.

It was the smile of Nishi Inurami.

Seeing him again was a strange feeling, like coming across a song you hadn't heard for years, but used to listen to every day. He was pretty much the same in appearance as the last time I'd seen him around a month ago- his hair seemed to be at its usual length, though it was easy to spot the shorter patches where chunks had been ripped out. As well as that, there appeared to be faint scars etched into his skin from the waist up, mainly on his chest and stomach, but also on his arms and a couple on his face. Whether or not they continued down his legs I didn't know, since they were covered by earthy brown trousers, though I would've bet anything that they weren't free from the tiny scratches and blemishes either.

I had so many questions to ask, but judging from the situation, I was going to have to wait for the answers.

As soon as the announcer exclaimed that we could fight, Nishi hurled himself towards me like a fork of unstoppable lightning. I was slow to react, but managed to move myself out of the way just in time to avoid his swiping nails. The movement knocked me off- balance for a few seconds- Nishi didn't attack me, though. He was crouched on the sand, growling like some kind of animal. So far, I couldn't spot any blood and, although I was relieved in a way, I was anxious to discover what his Branch of Sin was so that I could work around and avoid it.

The absence of fear that I felt was quite worrying and contrary to my usual personality, though it did allow me to concentrate on all the things that Crow had taught me through training. Finding the opponent's Branch of Sin technique was the first necessity, yet it seemed that Nishi was trying not to show his until the last moment. Right now, it appeared that his main form of attack was his nails. But _why_? I couldn't work out why he was acting like this, so differently from when I'd first met him. Was he just putting on the aggressive act to try and intimidate me? Or was this his a genuine side to his personality?

Like back in the cell, he was seething at me, growling through bared teeth and furious eyes. Then all of a sudden, he spoke for the first time.

"I can see you're admiring my scars," he said in a surprisingly conversational tone. "They look worse in the light than they are in actuality, but even I can't deny that there's a hell of a lot.

I was constantly moving backwards, but slowly, one step at a time. My eyes were fixed on Nishi.

"And do you know how I got these scars?" he continued calmly, standing up.

Suddenly, he began to sprint towards me. However, this time I had my guard up, so I could shift out of the smoothly before I was hit, It seemed as if he'd anticipated this though, and just as I thought he was going to try and attack me from the front again, I felt a hand take hold of the back of my hair and pull sharply- I hit the ground head first.

No sooner was I on the floor, Nishi's crushing weight was on top of me, holding me down and restricting my movement to near zero.

"It's because whilst you've been doing your girly training with that low- life Crow, I've been out here, fighting in proper games." His mouth was pressed against my ear, so close that I could feel his lips moving.

The feeling of being scared once again filled me up. There was no doubt that for Nishi, a mere win wouldn't be enough- he'd have to kill his opponents for a proper victory. It was easy to tell that by the heavy, almost tangible aura of aggression that was seeping out of his every move.

He was going to kill me, just like he'd killed Ganta.

It hit me then and there- the reason why I was fighting Nishi. Hadn't Tamaki said that he was going to pit me against the one who'd killed Crow's friend a year ago? Yet… That made no sense. He'd been with me when I'd first entered Deadman Wonderland- I'd seen that woman run him through. So how could he have killed Ganta? Maybe this was some sick joke that the twisted administration department here was playing on me. But then again, was it possible that he'd finished his sentence and been let out, then had to be readmitted for some crime and was now on death row because of it?

Either way, I had to win this fight- for Crow, who believed in me, and Ganta, the boy I'd never met but respected so much.

For Mitsuki.

A scream shook the whole arena and my lungs, pouring out as loud as I could make it. At once, Nishi's left hand left the ground and clamped over my mouth to silence me- perfect. I'd been expecting that… Without even pausing to consider the consequences, I bit down as hard as I could until the vile taste of blood filled my mouth. For a moment, I thought that I was going to hack and let go, but instead I just held on tighter, up to the point where Nishi's shrieks and thrashes became too much for me to handle and I had to let go. However, I wasn't going to let the opportunity slide- whilst the man on top of me swore furiously and clutched his hand, I managed to wriggle out from his grip and dive across the arena, so far away that we were almost on opposite sides of the rounded stage.

It took a few seconds for Nishi to get up, and though I couldn't see properly from the distance, there was no denying the stream of red liquid that was dripping down his thumb to the ground. And to think that I was the one who'd caused it… The thought made me shudder.

"You…" Nishi growled. "You are absolutely _dead_!"

I readied myself as my opponent rushed towards me again, only this time I could see the blood from his hand begin to writhe in the air and curl around his wrist like tentacles. So the battle had properly begun, at last.

I could not lose this fight.

_I could not lose this fight._


	29. Stage 28: Scar

**Stage 28: Scar**

I lifted my head at the sound of the doorbell ringing.

Mitsuki glanced at me from the other side of my bedroom. "Want me to get that?"

"Nope. I'm fine." I stood up and walked over to the door, smiling to add, "Knowing this neighbourhood, it's probably a group of armed thugs seeing ransom."

I made my way down the stairs and into the hallway. The door to the lounge was slightly ajar, the sound of Jeremy Kyle coming from the television. I considered checking up on my mum quickly, but decided against it. She'd probably started on the wine already. Best to just leave her.

I unlocked the door and swung it open. What greeted me made me freeze.

Three men stood on the patio. Two of them sported shaved heads, one with a scar across his jaw. The third had short black hair and tattoos that reached his neck peeking over a leather jacket. He couldn't have stood at less than six feet tall.

"Are you Jana Rizuku?" he said slowly.

The sound of my name struck fear deep into me. "I-I think you have the wrong house. I'm sorry."

I made to shut the door, but the black-haired man clamped a hand over it. "I asked you a question, boy," he growled.

I looked directly up at him and shook my head. "No."

Behind me, the lounge door swung open. My mum's words were slurred as she said, "What is it now, Jana? You're letting the heat out."

The silence that followed seemed to last for minutes. I imagined my mum standing in the hallway, squinting to make out the figures on the patio.

Finally, the black-haired man shook his head. His eyes were blazing. "Tanaka said you were a liar, Rizuku."

My heart was in my throat. I took a step back, but the men had already begun to advance. The black-haired man nodded to his scarred partner, who produced a pistol from his jacket and marched towards my mum. She disappeared into the lounge, screaming.

And now the remaining men turned to me. My ankle hit the bottom stair, and I fell onto my back. The figures loomed over me.

"Who's Tanaka?" I cried out at last.

The two men exchanged glances. Then the black-haired man looked down. "Don't play that game with me, Rizuku. You've already made clear that you don't have the drug money you owe. Now we're going to make clear why you don't screw with Tanaka."

I stared at him, trying to make sense of his words, when it hit me. Of course. Perfect, popular Jana Rizuku, from across the road. a THAT was who they wanted. Whatever he'd gotten mixed up in, I wasn't a part of it.

"Wait," I said. "You've got the wrong—"

I was cut off as a fist struck my cheek. Pain spread across my face and I recoiled, tasting blood. The bald man grabbed my shirt and raised his hand for another punch, but was stopped as his partner motioned upwards. My heart almost stopped as I realised what he was pointing to.

Sure enough, Mitsuki stood at the top of the stairs. Her hand was over her mouth. Like me, she was probably too terrified to move. The black-haired man began up the stairs, followed by his partner, who kicked me aside.

I rolled onto my front and leapt up the stairs after them. The idea of Mitsuki being drawn into this horrified me more than anything. By the time I reached my room, the men were already inside.

Mitsuki lay on her back on the far side of the room, screaming and thrashing. The bald man dug his stomach into her ribs in an attempt to restrain her. His hands were at her shoulders.

Gritting my teeth, I launched myself at the man and clasped my arms around his throat. His hands left Mitsuki momentarily to pry me off. I fought against him, kicking his back, digging my nails into every inch of flesh I could reach until I felt blood. At last, a hand wound into my hair and dragged me away.

I looked up into the face of the black-haired man. I swiped at him wildly with my nails, but his boot landed on my neck. At once, I felt the air being crushed from me. The pain was excruciating.

"Jana Rizuku," he said softly. "I feel sorry for you. I really do."

At last, he removed his boot. It took a moment for the air to rush back into my lungs. The man took hold of my hair, dragged me into a sitting position and wrapped his arm around me. I was too weak to fight back.

By now, the bald man had managed to tear open Mitsuki's blouse and was moving onto her skirt. Each action was slow, deliberate, as if he were making a game of it. I snapped my eyes shut. This was a dream. There was no other way to explain it. This HAD to be a dream.

The sound of clicking metal caught my attention, and then something cold pressing into my palm. I opened my eyes to see a pistol in my hand.

"We all make mistakes, don't we? Everyone pisses off the wrong people now and again. Which is why I'm giving you a choice." He guided the gun to point at Mitsuki.

The idea was too horrifying for words. I shook my head.

"No?" said the man. "Well, then I suggest you sit back and enjoy what happens next."

By now, the bald man had removed all of Mitsuki's clothes aside from her blouse and skirt. Mitsuki lay still beneath him. She wasn't struggling anymore, and her eyes were squeezed shut. My hand shook around the gun. I couldn't watch this. I was going to be sick.

Sitting up, the man placed his hands in his belt and began to unbuckle it.

The sound of the shot rang around the room. My trembling fingers fell limp, and the gun slipped to the floor. Beside me, the man breathed out loudly. He laughed, though his voice sounded fuzzy to my ears. As if he were sat behind glass.

It could have been seconds, minutes or hours before the man eventually stood. He signalled to his partner. "Leave the gun. It's got his fingerprints on it." His fingers brushed my head as he left. I recoiled at the touch.

And then silence. I lifted my eyes to the far side of the room. Mitsuki lay on her back, completely still. If it weren't for her wide eyes, staring at the ceiling, she may have been mistaken for sleeping. I crawled over and placed my hands on her shoulders. My back ached with pain, but I didn't care.

"M-Mitsuki?"

No reply. I closed my eyes and lowered my head until it was resting against her chest. My heartbeat flooded my ears. Something warm and wet pooled around my hands, clinging to my fingers. When I looked at them, I saw that they were red with blood. It was in Mitsuki's hair, her clothes, the floor. The smell rose up to me, thick and nauseating. Desperately, I wiped my fingers against my trousers, but it wouldn't come off. It was like rot.

This was my fault. I'd done this. As the tears welled up in my eyes, I thought back to the moment I'd pulled the trigger. _Why?_ The word tore at my mind. It had been a slip of the finger, a momentary decision. I thought I was saving her.

And now she was dead. Because of me.

The police arrived a short while later. Apparently, a neighbour had heard gunshots and dialled the station. They found my mother downstairs, her neck broken. My fingerprints were found on the gun. Mitsuki was taken away, and I was arrested on suspicion of murder.

I fought my case for as long as I could. After that, my will gave in. What was the point? All evidence pointed against me. Everything added up. I was sentenced before the judge, ordered to choose between death or a life sentence. Only one option met my ears.

A week later, I arrived in Deadman Wonderland, ready to begin my new life as a convict.

* * *

><p>VoRTeX here, and man, has it been a while. To all my readers new and old: thanks for sticking around. This story <span>will<span> have an ending. In the meantime, apologies for the heavy chapter. I cannot write trauma well.


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